Story suggested by Animelover1808
Warning- This part is more sexually graphic than the parts proceeding it. This is a mature and adult story. Reader discretion is advised.
“What’s your proposal, Joker?”
Batgirl asked the clown prince her question with an angry, fire bred tone. She stared into his green sparkling eyes and saw so much psychotic life in them, offering no redeeming qualities. She didn’t trust him- she never did and she never would. Nothing he could do, not even brainwashing or hypnotism, could ever bring her to devote unwavering faith to the demonic clown- or so she hoped.
Joker’s creepy grin soon opened, his proposal offered bluntly. “All you need to do is to give me one more night with you. I promise that you will never feel the desire to become Batgirl or that boring librarian ever again.”
Batgirl rubbed her arms and stood uneasily. She already didn’t feel like Batgirl or Barbara anymore. There she stood as Duela Dent, the Joker’s Daughter, a role she had been forced into during a number of trances over the past few days. Now, she was consciously aware of what was going on at the present moment, no longer hiding in the darkness of her mind. Learning that she had been brainwashed had been a harsh and strange blow to any sense of reality Batgirl could possess. She didn’t know how much of the truth she could take. “You’ve already hypnotised me, Joker. You could control me any time you wish. What else would you need me to do?”
“Don’t worry about the hypnotism, Batgirl. Sure, the brainwashing was fun, and I thoroughly enjoyed it! But it was the only way to initially show you the error of your ways! You live an unfulfilling life that always has you hypnotised! There’s no fun in the law- only anarchy and chaos. You had an inner circus girl inside of you, crying to get out. I did my best to bring her to the surface... and I did a good job if I say so myself.”
Batgirl couldn’t help but blush under her greasepaint. As much as she tried to fight it, she had developed a strong attraction, dare she call it love, for The Joker. It embarrassed her to no end but showed no signs of letting up, only becoming more powerful. “Yeah, right. You can pass this off as some sort of charity, but anything you’re behind is to only glorify yourself! YOu just want to manipulate me, to humiliate and mentally torture me! You’re low, Joker. The lowest of the low-”
“Thank you, dear. I appreciate all of your lovely compliments! But, you shall take me on your offer... yes?”
Batgirl’s voice cracked and stopped before it could answer, the word no being unable to find a passage of escape from her tongue. The desire to have fun was just too bold on her mind, seeping into her brain, overwhelming her completely. How could she deny her true passions? In a few seconds, she found the strength to speak again. “Yes. It’s only fair.”
“Yes, it is.” Joker proceeded to approach Batgirl. It wasn’t long before his slender white glove was pressed against her red hair, running his fingers through it. “You will see that everything I do is fair. Chaos is way more fair that law and order could ever hope to be.”
Batgirl laughed scoffingly with a trembling nervousness. “That’s hard to believe, Joker.”
“So many incarcerated in Blackgate, Barbara. Committed in Arkham, stripped of their rights, informed that their... insane. Ha! And for what? For control. Absolute control by the authorities of the state. Of Gotham.” Joker shook his head, turning it a bit to look at the side. “Well, you have a lot to think about, Batgirl. It’s time for you to go home. See you tomorrow night.”
Batgirl was about to speak up before, suddenly, the Joker’s gas sprayed heavily into her face from his coat’s carnation. The gas immediately shot into her nose as she stumbled back and gave a short cry, shaking her head. As the strong cloud of gas moved into her system, she bent down to her knees, no longer able to support herself as the instant feelings of sleep drained any sense of consciousness. The last words she heard for the evening were “Goodnight, Batgirl” and it took very little at all to hear a chilling laugh follow with all visuals fading to black.
When Barbara woke up the following morning, she was a bit on edge. She expect to see The Joker and Harley beside her, laughing and taunting her. Even the vision of a painted Catwoman held mercilessly in a box had Barbara on edge. Instead of greeting the phantoms that plagued her mind, she soon realized that danger had subsided. As Barbara wiped away the sleep from her eyes, she sighed with relief. She saw that she was at home, safe and alone. She sat up in her bed to take a look around and make sure she wasn’t dreaming. There were her dressers, her closet, and everything in its right place. Yes, she thought. I really am home- thank goodness.
I got to get washed up, Barbara thought. Get dressed, brush my teeth and be ready. When she glanced down, however, she was already dressed. She was wearing a set of clothes that she would usually wear when she went to work- a black top with a checkered skirt and clear stockings. Her checkered shoes matched the skirt perfectly, its design indistinguishable.
Impossible, Barbara thought. Holding up her hand in front of her face, Barbara blew her breath against her palm. Surprisingly, it was minty fresh. Had she just brushed her teeth a while ago, probably so tired that she took a little nap? No, she would haven’t remembered that, at least. She took a fingernail and scratched against a tooth. There was no grit or grime remaining on the tooth’s surface. Her mouth was perfectly clean. The librarian had always taken care of her teeth but to wake up so well prepared was a bit eerie. Either her memory was really bad or she had been really tired. Nothing made any sense.
Barbara thought back to her previous night as Duela, her greasepaint worn daintily upon her face, her clown clothes stretched against her skin. Now, it was all gone. As she rubbed her hands against her face, she could tell it was completely clean. Her hands were gloveless, the floor bare with no clown bags or clown purses. Everything was normal.
It must have just been a dream, Barbara mentally reasoned as she moved to the side of the bed and put her shoes on the carpet. “I was dreaming. It wasn’t real. That has to be it.”
Barbara’s eyes fell upon the table in her room and she realized that her encounter with Joker wasn’t a dream at all. There, as clear as day, was her precious clown purse waiting for her. The purse had been chosen by Joker and given to her by Harley during their dressing session yesterday, the design and look very much the same.
“Oh no,” Barbara said as she walked away from the bed and towards the purse. It was hers alright, and for some reason, it felt heavier than it did before. “Joker must have put more crap in here. That clown...”
Reaching a hand into the purse, Barbara pulled out a flat present wrapped in gift wrap and topped off with a ribbon. Confused, the redhead ripped the gift wrap and threw it on the table. She realized that the gift she was holding was a CD case. Its cover looked quite ridiculous with a picture of some fat, middle aged clown laughing as he held a balloon in his hands, getting ready to blow into it. He was a run of the mill party clown, a bit creepy looking, bald and seemingly suburban. Barbara reasoned that it was probably some random kids entertainer. The title sprawled across the top of the cover was “Clowning 101”.
“Flipping ridiculous,” Barbara said with a shy before opening the case.
The Clowning 101 DVD was properly in its place. On top of it was a small yellow note. Barbara read it quickly and instantly recognized The Joker’s surprising beautiful cursive. Watch it before we meet tonight, he had written. You’ll enjoy it. XXX Your loving dad, Joker.
“Sickening,” Barbara said as she stuck out her tongue with revulsion.
Barbara placed the DVD down on the table and inspected the other contents of the bag. There were so many items- clown clothes, green hair dye, numerous canisters of greasepaint with other makeup tools. Clown attire wasn’t the only thing inside. The bag was nearly filled to the brim with balls and balloons. There was even a joy buzzer, clown horn, and a clown themed pocket watch.
Barbara already felt overwhelmed by the many items. She placed the bag back on the table and picked up the DVD again. Mistrust flooded her entire bloodstream. The Joker was not to be trusted. The DVD could be a trap, and no doubts brought Barbara to think any alternative thoughts about the disc. As she stared at the clown on the front, however, his appearance became less creepy. Instead, he seemed happy, so content in his little clown world on the cover. The clown model’s ‘happiness’ would be equated to as insanity to the average person, or anyone with a strong sense of coulrophobia, but Barbara was seeing him in different eyes now. She wanted that happiness, the joy of the clown looking back at her from its flat surface. It would take the most naive Gothamite to actually have any respect for clowns with a staple like the Joker representing their crimeworld but Barbara didn’t care anymore.
Yes, the DVD was probably a trap, but Barbara had to watch it now. She needed to enjoy the film, to learn from it and take the risk. There was a mischievous nature within her now, a clown nature, budding with a euphoria that couldn’t be contained. With excitement, she moved over to the television and DVD player on the top of her dresser. First, she turned on the TV. The static was loud before she turned the DVD player on, turning the screen black. Barbara opened the disc player and placed the Clowning 101 DVD in.
“Let the fun begin,” Barbara said in a gleeful tone. She immediately recognized the tone and phrase was nothing that her usual self would say, but she didn’t care at this point. Clowning! What an excellent and wonderful topic- what else would Barbara care about doing at that point?
Barbara walked away from the TV and sat down on the edge of the bed. As she adjusted her skirt, she looked up at the TV. The black screen remained for a few more seconds. Before long, a huge multicolored spiral shined from the screen surface, shocking the redhead. The spiral looked very much like what someone would expect to see if they were being hypnotised. It was intrigue, a dark spiral interlaced with a light one. Its colors flowed through the electromagnetic spectrum like some psychedelic Pink Floyd fantasy, seeming to sneakingly seer into the surrounding atmosphere of the room. With with the projections of color and light, Barbara still felt conscious, aware of what she was seeing. She couldn’t say that her mind didn’t feel captivated in any way. Maybe it was just a joke, some funny effect put on the DVD by Joker. Knowing the Joker and getting to know more about him recently, however, made Barbara think twice. She wouldn’t be surprised if spiraling rainbow show was doing far more than it seemed to be doing.
What Barbara heard next shocked her more than the spiral on the screen. A commentary was starting and Barbara instantly recognized the speaker had her voice.
“Hello, happy viewers,” the DVD commentator began, “and welcome to the show. Clowning 101!”
“Oh my God,” Barbara said. “This is me. When did I record this?”
“On our DVD,” the commentator continued, “you will learn all of the exciting tricks of the trade to be the perfect clown! We’ll cover costuming, face painting, personality, acts, and jokes. So get ready to laugh, cry, juggle, blow balloons, pop ‘em, and above all else, have a fun and funny time!”
Joker must have made me record this, Barbara thought as anger flushed through her system. He wanted me to listen to this as some sort of joke, to embarrass me.
“First,” the commenter continued, “we’ll be getting into our costume. A clown isn’t a clown without a costume. So throw those bothersome clothes on the floor.”
It’s no use disobeying the voice, Barbara suddenly reasoned, pushing all other thoughts out of the window. I have to listen.
Barbara immediately stripped out of her clothes. The checkered skirt and shoes, the top, lingerie underneath- everything was discarded onto the surface of the bed, leaving the redhead naked.
“That’s it,” the voice said, as if timed to know exactly when Barbara would be naked. “You’re so beautiful, so radiant. Weren’t those normal day clothes so dull?”
“Say... they were dull, alright.” Barbara rubbed her hands across her skin. It felt so good to be free.
“You’re the perfect blank canvas for a clown,” Barbara’s recording went on, the television screen still spinning in a multicolored spiral that continued to change tones and hues. “A blank canvas can be captivating, but it must be decorated. Go to your clown purse, girlfriend... let’s get wild and let your real side out.”
“Yes,” Barbara said aloud without shame, smiling. “Let’s do that.” She walked over to the clown purse and pulled out the clothes. With hardly wasting any time, Barbara started to pull the clown clothes on. It was an interesting ensemble. First, she pulled on a tight, purple fitting top. After pulling it on and stretching it out, Barbara noticed that her nipples showed well through the thin fabric, round and perked to the touch. Then, she pulled on a green vest with a matching bow tie that wasn’t too harsh on her neck. Next, Barbara pulled tight fitting purple shorts over her legs. They showcased her athletically toned legs quite well, and on her green vest she attached a funny violet joke carnation. It had a valve behind it and Barbara knew it would be just perfect if she ever needed to fit gases or acid in it. She put on a little purple top hat, purple socks with Joker’s face on them, and green high heels. Her dressing session was complete.
“That’s it,” the announcer said from the TV, still seeming to have an uncanny way of knowing when Barbara would finish her assigned tasks. “You’re all dressed up, nearly ready for the show. You should be proud. Why don’t you take a look at yourself?”
Barbara nodded before walking over to a mirror. She looked up and down, admiring her look. The clothes were so nice and tight against her skin! She could feel it pressed against her like a second skin, her real skin, showing her truly goofy and careless side, a mischeviousness that couldn’t be contained.
“Yes, that’s it,” the DVD continued. “So pretty, so goofy... such a clown. You’re already looking extra funny today. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Mmmm,” Duela moaned without embarrassment, her smile wide. She was truly happy.
“You’re a very attractive and funny clown, alright,” the DVD said encouragingly. “We’re not done yet. You know that.”
Barbara nodded.
“That’s good, Barbara. Good. Now, you better put your purple hat on the table or bed. Wherever it won’t get messy. We really need to bring the... joke out of your hair. Put some greenery in the scenery, just like daddy. Know what I mean?”
“Yes,” Barbara said with a smile as she grabbed the green hair dye.
“Go to the bathroom and get your hair right. It’s be good to get the hair done first.”
Barbara listened immediately, going to the bathroom and preparing the dye. As she ran the faucet water, she applied the green dye to her hair and made sure it went everywhere, from the red tresses all the way down to her roots. Her hands were through the hair, rubbing and scrubbing to make the dyes spread out. The more work and water she put into dying it, the green was getting brighter and brighter. She realized how quickly it dried during the process as well, almost perfectly. The woman’s red past was soon becoming something of a hidden and forgotten mystery. Barbara probably spent ten or fifteen minutes dying her hair, making sure that the dye went deep, covering up everything. After she was done, Barbara inspected the hair with the bathroom mirror and a hand mirror, making sure each square inch was covered.
When she came out of the bathroom, Barbara was no longer surprised that the DVD had estimated her preparation time just perfectly. The spiral was still spinning, spreading its colors like spiderwebs throughout the entire room.
“A clown isn’t really a clown without that perfect face. So for this second section, I want you to paint all over your pretty... well, my pretty, perfect face...”
As Barbara walked to the bag and pulled out the makeup, she realized that she had worn this particular costume before. It had only been a few days, but she had worn this exact outfit, and being able to realize such a fact surprised the former crimefighter. As she dug out each makeup kit and greasepaint container, Barbara wondered when the DVD had really been made. Had it been made the first night she had been brainwashed by the Joker, a night or two later?
“Now, before we begin,” the DVD continued, “you should know that makeup is what really sets difference between people and clowns. Makeup brings out your spontaneity! It allows you to be fun, creative and free. You go from the life of a normal, everyday smoe to a real life clown persona. Now, go ahead and spread that white greasepaint.”
Barbara obeyed. She started to smooth the greasepaint over her face and get it settled against her skin.
“There are many clowns throughout history that have been recognized specifically based on their face alone. Each clown is unique and presentation is everything. Think Lou Jacobs, Red Skelton, Emmett Kelly... The Joker!”
Barbara’s hands continued to move across the flesh, making sure she got as much coverage as possible.
“See how reliable all of that makeup is?” the DVD inquired. “See how well it sticks to your face, how nice it feels?”
Yes, Barbara thought, hardly able to hide her smile. She’s right. It’s... perfect. She spread the white greasepaint over her neck and ears, matching their coverage with her face.
“Each clown has their own face and you should make your own. A clown is only recognizable when their face stands out in a line up of a million clowns. Normal people conform, assimilate, and lack creativity. A clown, however, embodies rebellion, individuality, class. You’re at the top of the worldly food chain now, a fool! Now, I’m going to tell you what your perfect clown face is like. First, you’ll want to remember to powder the base makeup, all that white greasepaint, to make sure that it sticks.”
Barbara grabbed her powder brush and the talc nearby, immediately dipping it in and brushing all over her face. She did it as quickly and as efficiently as she could. Puff, puff, puff- the brush pampered her face, bouncing up and down with her hand as she held it, making the white makeup seem more uniform on her heavenly visage. Yes, she knew the DVD was right and she would follow each instruction, every detail. She knew that all of the information relayed to her had already been taught well by the master himself, Joker, while she was in her trance. She had seen the application of makeup and powder. She would not fail her parents. She had to make her face perfect and powder was needed for that process. Powder kept the makeup from feeling unkempt, messy and foolish. It would make sure that the face was completely covered and well formed. That way, she could apply the rest of the makeup without any problem.
“Time to put on the rest of that greasepaint and makeup,” the TV said. “After setting the foundation, you can do all sorts of things to make your clown face unique and impressionable! Use different colors, play with different designs- you can be goofy, elegant, bold, but whatever you choose, make it funny!”
Barbara pulled out the red canister. After removing the white makeup from her lips, she started to apply the red to replace the expose area. It did fit so nice and smoothly. She puckered her lips and made a sexy face before extending the red on the corner of her lips to give it a perfect Joker smile. Mixing the red on her cheeks gave it a faint pink blush. Barbara moved on to the blue makeup. The mix of the blue with the white over her eyelids gave a nice light purple eye shadow. Finally, she grabbed the black and pulled out a makeup brush, drawing eyebrows for herself before pulling out fake eyelashes. Her face was so right, so beautiful! Barbara striked a few poses in the mirror, realizing how much fun she was having and how different she looked. It was all such a big contrast from the boring, unfulfilling personality of Barbara Gordon.
Barbara looked back to the TV screen.
“That’s the Duela Dent that the world will come to know and love!” the DVD announced. “You’re really handling Clowning 101 well. Now we need to move you up to the next step. You’ve got the looks, you’ve got the natural charm and the perfect physique for real physical clowning. Now, let’s do what we can to bring you to a professional level. Any clown can look like a clown, but it takes a real clown to be a clown.”
“So true,” Barbara responded to the television.
“Now that we’ve got that cleared up, let’s go to our next lesson- personality. Take a seat.”
Barbara obeyed, sitting down on the edge of her bed and staring headon into the shiny spiralling screen.
“Good. Now, remember that to be a clown, you’ve got to have confidence. Spunk. You’ve got to know that you’re hot stuff, just like daddy.”
“Just like daddy,” Barbara repeated in a slightly mindless way.
“You have to know you’re smart, and crafty. You should never have to question any of your jokes. If anyone doesn’t laugh, you should make them laugh. Force them if you have to.”
“Force them...”
“All of the world is your stage, and everyone loves a clown. In a world full of clowns, you have to stand out. Be the best.”
“Be the best.”
“And why shouldn’t you be the best? You were trained and created, broken down bit by bit and reshaped by the best clown of all time- Joker, the clown prince of crime. That’s a big legacy to be a part of- you have to always represent it to the best of your ability.”
“Best of my... ability.”
“Remember that viewing yourself as a freak show is forbidden. You represent Joker now! Have pride as a clown. Always be happy, funny, and silly!”
“I will be happy... and funny... and... and silly! Ha ha ha!”
“Good, dear. Now, Duela- always have the demeanor of a confident clown. Sit up straights, showcase your wares, and don’t forget to smile!”
Barbara was gone, dead for all Duela could care. The green haired beauty arched her back as she sat on the surface of the bed, pushing out her breasts and pouting her lips. She felt so proud of herself.
“That’s a good clown. Very good. Don’t think of yourself as abnormal. Normal people are abnormal. They don’t like to have fun, and if they had a chance to be fun, they wouldn’t know how to! You’re the confident firecracker that’s responsible for stirring up their lives with nothing but the best humor has to offer! Laugh a lot, be mischievous. A real comedy house.”
All of the information was being absorbed into Duela’s attentive brain. She was held captive by the television and loving every minute of it.
“There’ s more to personality than just confidence, but at least we’ve covered the grand pillar. On to the next one.”
Duela listened carefully, brushing some green hair away from her ears.
“Remember that a true clown remains loyal. All clowns come from a clown alley, a troupe, a circus or carnival where they were created, raised... ‘born’. You are no different. Remember to always honor and love your teachers. No... they are not just your teachers. They are your parents, the funniest clowns in the world. Joker and Harley.”
“I was raised by the best.”
“They helped you onto the right path of clowning! Remember how you felt before you became a clown, when you fought them, opposed them? They were only trying to help you. They knew what was best for you!”
Duela thought about what the television was telling her as she had been instructed to. Her mind went back to many fights with Joker and Harley when she was Batgirl. Most of those occasions, she was playing a second banana and third wheel to Batman and Robin, helping them on their outings. Rarely did Batgirl have a vendetta or fight to rage on her own when it came to the Joker, and she had treated him cruelly, so unjustly. She could remember punching him, kicking him, throwing the clown when all he was trying to do was have some laughs, some giggles. He did so much for Gotham, worked so hard to keep the entire city entertained while people went on with their slave wage lives, earning nothing of value and knowing nothing about the poetic beauty of true comedy, true laughter and joy. No, Joker had to teach them and show them the way. Why would Batgirl want to oppose all of that? Their was so much guilt for how she treated Joker in the past, so much pain and anguish. Why wouldn’t she want a piece of the action? No more than any other time in her life did she really feel that desire to connect with the clown prince of crime as she did now. She would be a part of his troupe, his comedy team, his theatre. She would serve at his side and his feet as his humble daughter, his perfectly molded Duela Dent.
All the thinking about Joker and Harley was replacing feelings with guilt with feelings of longing and desire. How she truly loved the both of them. She felt like she needed them even though she didn’t deserve them. If she could only make up for all of the rough patches they had went through with one another. Batgirl knew that she would do anything, everything possible, to make the clown couple happy. She could showcase how successful their work on Duela had been to the public, like a psychiatric patient redeeming themselves for society. Yes, it made perfect sense now. Everyone had said that Joker had made Harley crazy, forced her into insanity and pushed her to the edge. They swore that Harley had lost her way from her psychologist past, but if they had only know that the woman had become a better therapist at the Joker’s side! Joker was a natural therapist and psychologist himself. He had broken the destructive fabric that was Barbara Gordon, freed the deluded woman from her batty mind prison, and broken the shackles of what was holding her in the pit of the world’s loathsome, humorless darkness. Yes, Duela was a better person now, a real clown, genuine and true in every sense of the world. Joker and Harley were so... hot, and they made Duela burn to the core of her physical being. If she weren’t dressed in her best clown clothes for them right now, she would have stripped down and laid on the best, taking her mental visualizations and let them guide her to ecstasy. For now, though she couldn’t strip and throw her glorious clothes to the side, she could still dream. She could think of Harley’s hands pressed against her breasts, suckling them like bottle, licking the nipples for all that they could be worth. Duela could dream of stuffing her face in Harley’s lap at one moment, and Joker’s in another, working her own tongue and mouth to their satisfaction. She could dream of the perfect ways that she could make them happy and show that they owned her, mind, body and soul.
The erotic thoughts intensified. They started off gently, sensual and soft, with visions of oral sex and kissing. Duela would eat Harley and Harley would eat her, sometimes back and forth, sometimes at the same time. Joker never ate, often watched, and never turned down a blowjob.
Dreams of oral sex soon proved to not be nearly enough for Duela. Before long, she was thinking of being completely dominated by the Joker, owned from the front and the back for hours on end, nights filled with compassionate love making and hard hitting fucks. There was nothing merely sweet about the visions anymore. They were hardcore, graphic and uncontrollable. As much as Duela wanted to control herself, to keep her clown clothes clean, she couldn’t help but feel moist and wet between her legs from the heavy thinking. She couldn’t even focus enough to realize that, although the spiral on the television remained constant and bright, the voice had stopped for quite a while now.
Another realization suddenly hit Duela. As she fantasized about getting fucked, having girl on girl sessions with Harley, making out over cream pies and whoopee cushions, it suddenly occurred to her that these weren’t simple fantasies. These were events, memories to be exact. Each ‘fantasy’ was a memory that had already happened, things that had been blanked out from her conscious mind and triggered to come back when she least expected it. Those memories kept coming, nights were Duela would dress differently for Joker, wear something else to capture his fancy. After the brainwashing, after the training and the hijinks of the night, they would always go back to Joker’s circus for a nightcap. That was where Batgirl was convinced to perform the wildest of acts, starting with Harley before incorporating The Joker. Joker liked to start out by watching, and by the end of the night, he would proclaim his dominance. Batgirl would end up sweaty, hot and tired from the escapades before getting knocked out again.
So that’s when Joker cleans me up, Duela thought. Gets me washed up, dressed up, makes me Barbara again. And for what? Was all of the switching back and forth to break me? Couldn’t he have just claimed me then and there.
Duela felt some shock as she pulled herself back from her thoughts, tried to regain some composure. Focus, she thought, come back. I need to be the perfect clown for my parents... for my troupe. I can’t think inquisitively about them. I just have to be loyal. Joker knows what’s best. His reasons are the perfect reasons.
“And now,” the television said. “Onto the next lesson.”
At least Duela thought it was the television talking. But the volume didn’t come from the television- not at all. Maybe it never had.
That’s when it hit her- the DVD had no narrator. All of the lessons, the narration, everything, was taking place in Duela’s head. It was like some weird programs that had been stored into her brain, influenced by The Joker. She had been trained at some point to hypnotise herself, probably for this very moment.
“Bingo,” the narrator said, confirming Batgirl’s strange understanding of the current circumstances. “Now, shall we proceed to our next hilarious lessons of gags and jokes?”
Duela nodded.
“Good.”
Duela stood up, knowing that she should be prepared as much as possible for what she would be asked of next.
“Now, lets focus on filling up a few balloons. Do you have your clown purse?”
Duela went and grabbed her clown purse before showing it to the spinning screen. Her cheery persona had come back full swing. “I sure do now!”
“Great. Do what you do best and blow.”
Duela obeyed immediately. She pulled out balloon after balloon and filled them up, tying them and constantly moving on to the next one. It had probably been no less than ten minutes when her entire room’s floor was bouncing with little and big balloons of long and round sizes, each one varying in color and width. From red to yellow to green and purple, they created a miniature circus in her own apartment, making everything look way more lively than before. Duela was already starting to feel at home. Duela’s apartment, not Barbara’s- the remade woman liked the sound of it.
“You’re doing great, Duela. Really, you’re a natural! Now, let’s make some balloon animals. Hopefully, by now, that won’t be too tricky for you.”
Duela obeyed without question. She grabbed some of the balloons and started to twist them, tying them into many weird shapes. She started simple, making the smallest balloons into the least complex shapes. Before long, she was picking up speed and trying out all sorts of crazy combinations and balloon concoctions. She was soon surrounded with the balloon animals she had created- giraffes, dogs, and other interesting shapes. Her heart was mired with pride and a sense of accomplishment.
“You’re a natural! Of course, balloon animals are mere fodder, baby stuff. Even so, every clown’s gotta know the basics. You’re no ordinary birthday clown, but you’ll have to know the simple stuff in order to keep up with the Jokers. Besides, who knows when your balloon animals will make perfect storage units for laughing gas some day! They undoubtedly will at a point or two in your life.”
Duela was so excited. She knew that even this small stuff would be perfect in having her use the best arsenal for Joker’s schemes.
“Well, onto the next fun! Let’s talk about joy buzzers...”
Duela reached in her stash and looked at the few little joy buzzers.
“You’ll need some of these for the fun you’ll have in Gotham. All you need to do is find an unsuspecting victim, press the buzzer lightly, find a hand to shake and- ZAP! You’ll give a new and probably short lived comedy assistant the old shock treatment! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Now, don’t forget all about your squirting flowers. Some gas, some acid, even other weapons can be a sure thing when it comes to making a robbery or other mandatory crime.”
Duela didn’t seem overwhelmed, but she sure was impressed! She slipped on one of the joy buzzers. It fit like a charm. Duela reached for the carnation on her vest and gave it a little testing squeeze. She was surprised to see that it was already filled with some gas, spraying a bit of it in the air before it evaporated. Well, she thought, I’ll be. I’m prettty well stocked and supplied.
This was the good stuff and Duela knew it. Any clown could do simple party tricks, circus acts and even act out monologues and miming. The type of clowning she would be doing, however, would take things way further than such pedestrian acts. She was trained by the best master, The Joker, and being a great clown was all about standing out. No one could clown like her trainers. They did things other clowns wouldn’t dare to do- explosions, shockers, all around horrors that captivated the massive audience of Gotham. More than anything, Harley Quinn and The Joker made such seemingly dark and dirty deeds funny. With the hilarious factors involved, life became an unending array of possibilities. Duela could enjoy it all, follow in her parent’s footsteps, and make them notice how funny she could be too. She could do all sorts of things when she got started- poisoned flying darts, sharp edged playing cards with the Joker’s insignia stamped upon them, the works.
“Now let’s talk about another fun thing you can do- hypnotise people. You see that watch over there, Duela?”
Duela reached down and picked up a nice, shiny pocket watch. It was covered with a green and purple diamond design. “Yep. Sure do.”
“Good. That pocket watch and be used to hypnotise all sorts of people! Average, dull people have such funny minds for you to manipulate and control! You can’t control anyone without daddy’s consent, of course, since he controls you.”
“Of course.”
Duela took the pocket watch and stuff it into her tights. There, she thought, that will be a good place to store it for now.
“Good job, Duela. Daddy will be very proud of you. Now, why don’t you spend a bit more time practicing your juggling? Always remember- get the basics down and you’ll master the heavy stuff!”
Duela agreed totally. She picked up some balls and immediately got to juggling. She was surprised with her skill. She was able juggle five balls at a time. She upped the ante to six. It was a bit difficult but she was able to get it down in a few minutes. Soon, she was able to switch up the speed, fast or slow, and even walk around with the various items moving along with her. The very moment was priceless. Robin would have been jealous! He had spent years of his childhood working to be the best circus performer he could be and Duela had built her circus skills in a matter of a few days!
Forget Robin, Duela thought with a giggle. Batman too. This is my life now. Here, watching Gotham fall and tumble with a laugh and a grin, alongside my daddy. Just think of how funny it would be to juggle a few bombs and let them loose in a downtown parade!
Duela thought about how much Batman would freak once he came back to Gotham and saw that his precious friend Batgirl had seen the light, trading sides. If he could see her new happy philosophy in life, he would know that she wouldn’t need him or anyone else again. She would leave her life as Barbara Gordon and the Batgirl behind forever, wanting nothing but to serve The Joker onto eternity. Then, they would see who truly ran Gotham with a silly gloved fist. They would all see.
“I’ve got to fight this impulse to clown around,” Duela suddenly found herself saying.
Oh no. Thinking about Batgirl had brought her out a bit, made her rise to the surface. She was fighting the new mindset of Duela. Duela found herself walking over to her closet and opening it, looking at her Batgirl uniform.
Get dressed, a Batgirl was telling Duela in her head. Put on the uniform, before it’s too late. It’ll get your senses back- it’ll remind you of who you are.
“No,” Duela said with a strong imperative tone. “No, never. I refuse. I am Duela now.”
She could hear Batgirl screaming now, throwing a tantrum in her head. How did she not realize how weak Batgirl was before? Batgirl, the idiotic rodent, lost to a laugh of society and responsibilities, forced to wear a mask in order to fight crime. Little had she known that crime was fun, the Joker was king, and all else was an illusion to do away with. They would rule and destroy all the joylessness of the world in due time. Everyone would have a smile.
“No, Duela,” Batgirl said, finally rising out to Duela’s vocal cords. “I will not allow you to do this to me. I’ve fought too long and hard for all of this. I will not allow you to make me... into.. a clown!”
Duela’s hand reached into her closet, no longer in her own control... or was it Joker’s... or was it Batgirl’s? It had to be Batgirl’s now, her hand reaching into her Batbelt and pulling out an unfoldable, metal batarang.
“I will not go down!” Batgirl screamed as she threw the batarang.
Smash! The batarang landed into the TV, short circuiting it. The spiralling monstrosity stopped. Peace was restored.
Batgirl walked over to the DVD player and pressed the eject button. The disc popped out. Grabbing the disc, Batgirl’s hands started to break the round flat mind controlling device into bits.
“Nice try, Joker... close, but no cigar.” Batgirl growled as she ripped off the bow tie and the vest. “You can dress me up in your whore’s clothing, paint my face, and invade my mind with your idiotic erotic narcissistic thoughts, but you could never possess my real mind. When we meet again, I will handle you on my terms, not yours. I’m not to be owned like some clown doll.”
Batgirl really wanted to rush out and fight Joker. It would take way too much time to get out of the clown clothes, she thought. Maybe all she needed was her utility belt. Joker knew her identity now, which didn’t work in her favor at all. Anger raged within her. She could take the clown out.
“It’s time to go,” Batgirl thought. Not wanting to waste a minute, she grabbed her utility belt and put it on, rushing out of the door. She knew where Harley and Joker would be, waiting for her patiently at the costume shop. They thought they had broken her, replaced her mind and decimated what she had always been. How wrong they were, how truly wrong, and they would find out tonight.
To Be Continued