The Joker's hideout was not a dingy warehouse, but the penthouse suite of an abandoned, highly ostentatious hotel in the rundown industrial section of Queens—a perfect blend of high-end luxury and structural decay.
He emerged from a customized escape capsule, coughing slightly from the residual gas, but his grin was wider and more maniacal than before.
The blast from Lucifer's Sleeper had stunned him, not hurt him, and he was fueled by the sheer, exhilarating chaos of the confrontation.
His personal chaos-chamber was littered with spray-painted art and malfunctioning, brightly colored traps.
Sitting on a velvet-draped, upside-down sofa, watching a loop of old, black-and-white cartoons, was Harley Quinn. (From Anime)
She was dressed in her classic red and black outfit, but her current demeanor was surprisingly docile, almost childlike.
She was engrossed in the cartoon, occasionally giggling at the slapstick violence.
"Bro! You're back! Did you make a boom-boom?"
Harley asked cheerfully, not looking away from the flickering screen.
The Joker moved to the opposite sofa and settled in, watching the patterns of the ceiling lights reflect in the glossy, peeling paint.
He was vibrating with manic energy, but this was a different kind of intensity—a warm, nostalgic focus.
"Oh, I made a boom-boom, little sis,"
Joker said, his voice soft, almost affectionate, losing the booming theatrical quality.
"But more importantly… I found him."
Harley finally turned her head, her bright blue eyes instantly locking onto him, the cartoons forgotten. Her expression shifted from childlike amusement to one of pure, intense focus.
"Found who?"
She asked, her voice dropping, the light, manic tone gone.
The Joker smiled, not his usual shark-toothed grin, but a genuine, reminiscent smile that only appeared when discussing their past on the streets of Gotham.
"Luce,"
He breathed, the old nickname sounding like a precious secret.
"Our youngest, Harley. I found him."
Harley Quinn—whose relationship with the Joker, in this version, was not a romantic obsession, but a deep, protective, and warped familial bond rooted in their mutual survival—froze completely.
The remote control slipped from her hand.
"L—Luce?"
She whispered, her voice cracking with raw, unfiltered emotion.
"Our Luce? The one who ran away?"
"The very same,"
Joker confirmed, chuckling.
"He's all grown up now. A big-shot logistics guy. And he's still trying to put the world back together, bless his stubborn little heart."
Harley scrambled off the couch and rushed to the window, staring out at the chaotic skyline of Manhattan. Her eyes welled up with tears that were heartbreakingly sincere.
"Oh, Luce. We missed you! We thought the streets swallowed you whole!"
She cried.
"He was always the sensible one. The only one who kept us fed without... Well, without too much fun!"
Harley turned back to the Joker, her manic energy returning but now channeled into fierce, protective sisterhood.
"Bro, we have to get him! He's all alone! He needs his family! He needs us to show him how to live! That S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff, that's not his style. That's boring!"
The Joker nodded, his eyes gleaming with purpose.
"Exactly, Harley. He's trying to make a world that makes sense. We taught him better than that. We taught him how to survive in beautiful, brilliant chaos."
He rose from the sofa, the full weight of his current madness returning, but now directed by a powerful, albeit twisted, fraternal love.
"We have to save him from himself, little sis. We are going to bring our baby brother home,"
the Joker announced, throwing his arms wide.
"No more deliveries, no more suits, no more force fields! Just family! And we'll show him how to play the old games! At any cost!"
Harley shrieked with joyful anticipation, grabbing two oversized mallets.
"Oh, this is going to be the best family reunion ever, Bro! We'll make him laugh again!"
Lucifer, completely unaware of the familial reunion plotting in Queens, stared at the Gold Rank job board.
The urgency of the Joker's threat weighed heavily against the need for the massive $350,000 payout.
"He is escalating because of me,"
Lucifer summarized, looking at Raven.
"He's not just targeting Stark; he's targeting me. And he's going to hit us where we live."
"The chaotic emotional signature is centered here,"
Raven confirmed. "If you leave, the area will become a war zone..."
"But I need the money,"
Lucifer insisted, running his hand over the Gold Rank notification.
"I have just over a million. I need to push past the $3-5 million mark for for a permanent, undetectable base."
Raven placed her hand on his, her touch grounding.
"Lucifer, the Joker wants to bring you back to your past. He is using your schedule as a clock. He will strike when you are gone, forcing you to choose between your current life and the safety of everything you care about."
Lucifer looked at the Gold Rank job, then at Raven, then at his quiet apartment.
Joker would destroy the 'normalcy' Raven craved and ruin his path to financial freedom.
"No,"
Lucifer decided, slamming his fist on the desk.
"I'm not letting that psychopath define my schedule."
He cancelled the mission.
"I am accepting a different Gold Rank mission,"
Lucifer announced.
"One that takes place right here."
He scrolled down the board, his eyes finding a highly dangerous, yet strategically perfect contract.
[New Gold Rank Delivery: Tier 2 - Black Market Asset Retrieval]
[Objective: Locate, secure, and deliver a captured, highly unstable target from a hostile, hidden compound within the five boroughs of NYC.]
[Target: Harley Quinn (Classified: High Value/Containment Priority)]
[Reward: $200,000]
[Danger: Extreme (Compound is likely protected by advanced paramilitary/meta-human forces. Time sensitive.)]
"Joker's vulnerability is his family,"
Lucifer stated, a cold glint in his eye.
"Harley Quinn is his support. If he wants to play games, we'll take away his sister. We neutralize the threat, clear $200,000, and show him that Lucifer dictates the rules now."
He looked at Raven.
"Gold Rank delivery, Raven. Manhattan is the target. Time to go to work."