Magic was real.
In a world where men could fly and some of them even wore their underpants on the inside, this wasn’t exactly staggering news. For the average person, learning that magic was real was a bit like hearing about professional slap fighting for the first time. There was a moment of surprise, some befuddled contemplation, and maybe looking at a few videos before realizing they stood on the edge of a world they weren’t equipped to understand, and so they moved on with their lives to preserve some degree of sanity after the third time the world was nearly destroyed. This year.
After all, magic wasn’t something one could pick up as a casual hobby, like home brewing or beekeeping. Not unless the beer was made with nitroglycerin and the bees had foot-long stingers. Magic, like any professional art or craft, took time, dedication, and discipline to master. And the consequences of amateur mishaps could be dire indeed.
For example, a poorly composed teleport could send the would-be mage into the Joker’s favorite armchair. While he was sitting in it.
As far as the last thing to ever hear went, “Well now, have you been a good little boy for Christmas?” might have been among the worst. The good news was that the hapless hedge mage lived for another few weeks.
That was also the bad news.
The Gotham criminal underground had little interest in magic. Aside from most of them being the wrong kind of insane to harness it well, there was always the fear of escalation. Batman was bad enough with an apparently infinite mundane R&D budget. Not even the Joker was crazy enough to push the Bat to take up wizardry… usually. The Joker also wasn’t one to pass up opportunities that literally fell into his lap.
One item of particular interest on his new benefactor’s person was the arcane equivalent of cake mix. Most of the spell was already put together in the scroll; it just needed a few more ingredients and some energy to make it happen. It would never be as good as homemade, but it would get the job done. The job in particular being a summoning rite to call forth an entity of chaos from beyond known existence, which sounded like just the thing to spice up a dull Thursday night.
The Joker looked back and forth between the yellowed parchment and an index card. “You’re sure you translated these correctly?”
“Sure as I can be, Puddin’,” said Harley Quinn. Her sequined leotard and feather headdress didn't quite fit the carefully arrayed black candles and circle of powdered silver they'd liberated from a LexMart delivery van, but she had the right attitude. Besides, it was the closest thing they had to a magician's outfit in storage. “I got my degree from NYU, not Hogwarts. Ain’t a lotta ancient runes on the psychology track.”
“Not other than your handwriting, you mean," the Joker muttered. The translation was barely more legible than the original, and only because it wasn't squirming. Much. He tossed the card aside and put on his best grin. "Right, let’s see what happens!" He raised his hands, one still holding the scroll. "Klaatu… Barada… NyQuil!”
The temperature plummeted even as the candles ignited of their own accord. The scroll crumbled to dust. The circle quivered as if in an unfelt earthquake before erupting into a column of light that would probably make the warehouse very noticeable if they weren't in a part of Gotham where no one tried to notice much of anything. Still, the Joker was a bit relieved when the light receded. Spectacle was all well and good, but there was a time and place for it.
Even before the spots cleared from his vision, the Joker knew he'd done it. The sound of inhuman talons on concrete was enough to tell him that. It was just a matter of seeing who and what they belonged to.
He had no expectations for whatever he’d summoned. Chaos was all about defying them, after all, so why bother? The spell said it would summon something reasonable enough to negotiate with, so it wasn’t like he was about to destroy the world.
At least, not on someone else's terms.
Still, if he had had expectations, they definitely wouldn’t have included the fluffy pink robe, nor the fuzzy slippers in the image of some yellow cartoon character. The entity wearing them wasn’t too far off, no two limbs coming out of the robe belonging to the same species, to say nothing of the mismatched horns. Harvey Dent would've needed another dozen psychotic breaks to come even close.
The creature glared at the Joker, brought a mug reading “Don’t Talk to Me Until I’ve Eaten This Mug” to its lips, and took a bite. “I’d say this had better be good,” it said around crunching ceramic, “but I get the feeling it won’t be.”
“Is this a bad time?” said the Joker, because it never hurt to be nice to something that might tear your soul out through your nostrils if you weren’t.
That got the sort of humorless snort that counted as riotous laughter from the Bat. “I’m not sure there’s a good time when it’s another one of you calling,” said the entity, before taking another bite out of his apparent breakfast.
“Ah. I suppose we’ve met on some differently numbered Earth.” The Joker shrugged and grinned. "Multiverses. Who can keep track of them all?"
“Not you specifically, but I know your type." The entity took on a singsong tone. "The whole world’s an absurd circus, so you’ll be head clown, capering and making mischief until the one pratfall that drops the big top on the fire-eater. Then you get to laugh in the ashes." He rolled his unevenly dilated eyes. "Speaking as an audience member: Yawn.”
The Joker had put up with a lot of disrespect in his time. Indeed, some of it he’d taken as compliments. But this got his hackles up. All niceties fell away as he marched up to the edge of the circle. “Are you calling me unoriginal!?”
“Hackneyed. Played out. Predictable.” Every word was punctuated by another bite, until the entity swallowed the handle of the mug whole.
The Joker’s hand brushed his hip holster for a moment, but he shook off the temptation. For one, open hostility like that would let the being respond in kind. The Joker could punch above his weight class at times, sure, but this was a bit much. For another, he couldn’t remember if that gun was loaded with bullets or flags at the moment.
“You ain’t even met Mistah J! Who’re you t’ talk about ‘im like that?”
Both turned to an indignant Harley. The Joker had forgotten she was even in the room. Going by his dumbfounded expression, the entity might not have even noticed. “Dr. Quinzel!” In a literal flash—though not the idealist in the red onesie—he switched out his accessories for a hideous tie, a worse lab coat, and a paisley clipboard. “I’m afraid this patient requires some one-on-one time; I must ask that you excuse us.”
Harley narrowed her eyes at the spirit, the silence drawing out for agonizing moments. “Okay,” she finally said. “But only ‘cause you called me ‘Doctor.’”
The entity smiled at her like an indulgent uncle. “I have nothing but respect for someone who seeks to understand something as nonsensical as the sapient mind. Besides, you certainly didn’t spend eight years in academia to be called ‘Miss.’”
That got a smirk. “And don’t you forget it.” She slammed the door as she left.
“Harley does raise a valid point," said the Joker. "You may have met others befitting a similar commedia dell’archetype, but you’ve never seen my particular take on it. Why, we haven't even introduced ourselves.”
The entity shook his head. “I am Discord, Lord of Chaos and Disharmony in lands far distant from here. But you need no introduction, Joker. Thanks to my outside context perspective, I know all of you." His head seemed to bulge and blur, countless slight variations trying to occupy the same space. "Even the few faint glimmers of something better and brighter.
"But I know you’re not interested in the hero with the hammer or the agent of the CDA." The surreal overlap ended, though the base creature was still plenty strange. Discord leaned as close as the summoning circle would let him, pressing his face against the barrier to get a closer look. "So tell me, who are we dealing with today? Are we dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight? Do we live in a society? Or is there a mustache barely hidden under that greasepaint?”
The Joker blinked, brought a hand to his chin, and said, “You know, I almost understood some of that.”
Discord pulled back, polishing his eagle talons on his chest with a smirk. “Not to brag, but you’ll need a few more rounds of clarity beyond madness to get on my level. Rhetorical question, anyway. Dr. Quinzel narrows down the possibilities considerably, especially when she’s still leaping to your defense.”
That got a disbelieving, lopsided grin. “Why wouldn’t she? You saw her, she's crazy about me! In more ways than one.”
Discord shook his head. “Oh, now we’re getting dangerously close to the kind of interference that will draw even more attention from the local authorities than you already have.”
“Oh, please," the Joker scoffed, "don’t tell me you’re afraid of the Batman.”
“Him? No." Discord shut his eyes, forelimbs spread in a gesture that might look solemn on something with a degree of symmetry. "But there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your criminology." One eye peeked open. "Though I might stick my neck out for someone who had learned the first lesson of sustainable chaos.”
The Joker crossed his arms. “I wouldn't have taken you for a conservationist.”
“I became one after I learned it the hard way: Don’t break your toys." Discord shrugged. "After all, then you can’t play with them anymore.”
“Nonsense! I broke Harley and she’s been much more fun ever since!”
That got another shake of the head. It was an admittedly impressive sight with that much neck behind it. Or beneath it. “That’s just taking her out of the packaging. I mean the kind of breakage that leaves another body in the harbor.”
The Joker wasn't going to let that one slide. "Sir, this is Gotham. No one tosses bodies in the harbor." He shuddered at the very idea. "With all the stuff already in there, they might get back out again. We dissolve our bodies in chemical plants like civilized people."
"Which may contribute to why you're not dumping them in the harbor."
"Ha!" The Joker beamed. "Now you're getting it!"
Discord rolled his eyes. "And hopefully you're beginning to understand why I want nothing to do with you."
"Seriously? What kind of chaos spirit has a conscience?
"Again, one who's seen the consequences of lacking one. You're beginning to remind me of an old ex, though thankfully with far less power to back up your sadism."
The Joker gave a sigh worthy of Broadway. "I suppose a measly human can't hope to outwit big, impressive you. Why, I doubt you even have weaknesses someone like I could exploit."
"Reverse psychology isn't not going to fail. I'm not some fourth-dimensional imp you can trick into saying the wrong word or a world-shaper in desperate need of an accomplice. I've had my power usurped by the undeserving before, and that's already more often than I'd like." After a moment of thought, Discord added, "Not unless it's actually funny."
"As it happens—"
"By my standards."
The Joker might have been able to keep up a pleasant facade under most circumstances, but an attack on his sense of humor was not one of them. “I’m not going to take this from some furry convention’s inflatable tube man! I summoned you, now you do what I tell you! That’s how it works!” He didn't mean to punctuate that last bit with a stomp, but it was what happened and he'd been yes-anding his impulses for long enough to act like it was intentional.
Either way, Discord remained unimpressed. “You’re very lucky that you called me, and that I’ve mellowed in recent years. There are entities out there who’d turn you inside out for cracks like that. Or for presuming you had mastery over them. Or because they liked you." An unreadable expression flashed across his face like a flicker of static on an old TV. "Of course, he's still in court-mandated therapy..."
The Joker snorted. "Oh, like that ever gets anywhere."
That got something approaching a smirk from the spirit. "Some asylums actually have working security. Suffice to say, no, that isn't how summoning works. Not this summoning anyway. Whoever wrote that spell had a decent sense of interplanar dynamics, but the compulsion was so much spun sugar and papier-mache. And now you see why one of the few rules I agree with is one of the first lessons of magic on many planes of existence: Never call up what you cannot put down.”
"Ah. Well." The Joker tented his fingers. "Then we appear to be at an impasse."
“That's still a very generous view of things." Discord sighed, suddenly sporting a dealer's visor as he shuffled a deck of cards. "Look, Mr. Kerr, Mr. Napier, Mr. Balatro, whatever name you want to claim today, you’ve come to the wrong table. I have a bigger blind than you can pay and I’m not interested in your game." He stopped shuffling and flipped up the Tower. Thunder and screams briefly echoed in the room before his accessories vanished. "And I can do much worse than throw you out of the building.”
The Joker's grin only widened. If nothing else, he was getting a fantastic show. “What, you won’t validate my parking?”
“I’ll tell you who Batman is.”
“What?" It took a moment for the Joker to even understand the threat. "Batman doesn’t have to be anyone! He’s order and reason and justice and everything else I’m trying to dismantle.”
“Yes." Discord pulled out a wallet, tossing the Joker what turned out to be a Bat-Credit Card as he dug through it. "He also has a driver’s license, a Social Security number, a Christmas card list, all manner of mundane details I could use to taint that lovingly despised image of him in your mind.”
The Joker said nothing, but he couldn't hold back his frown, nor the drop of sweat he felt running down the side of his face.
He also checked the card for its number, but the security code read "LOL."
“For what it's worth, I can respect you on some levels." Once the Joker looked back up, Discord was flipping through a comic book with familiar faces on the cover. "Especially how you weigh in against some other heavies on this world. It’s all about that counterpart of yours." Discord folded the issue to show the Joker a splash page, Batman glowering atop a tenement building with lightning flashing behind him like he'd cued it. Couldn't put it past him. "There he is, the triumph of drive and discipline, a pinnacle of human achievement who’s lapped actual human potential about five times over by now, enough to stand among gods through gadgets and gumption."
Discord turned the page to reveal a flattering portrait of the Joker, twisted like a Picasso and mouth open wide, laughing at the world. "And then there’s you, his cackling shadow, equal and opposite, also in those vaunted ranks because… well, he’s there. And you’re still making trouble for him, so obviously you must measure up to everyone he does." Discord chuckled, with a rattle in his chest like God's own dice. "Illogic at its finest.”
The Joker couldn't help but bow. "I do aim to please, whether you believe it or not."
All mirth vanished from Discord's expression. "I can certainly believe you aim to please yourself. Anyone else is collateral delight."
"Do you mind if I borrow that one?" It was the most sincere thing the Joker had said all night.
"By all means." Discord tucked the comic back in his toga. "I had a summer job as a muse once; good to know I still have the knack. But it's all the help you're getting out of me. Besides, I've stalled this long enough that the local Lords of Order have probably noticed." He looked around expectantly. "At this point, the Batman might be the only thing keeping you from getting a different fist breaking your jaw for once, territorial as he is."
"Lords of Order?" The Joker gagged. "Who are they and how do I send them a pipe bomb?"
That at least got a snicker out of Discord. “Oh yes. Law and chaos at each other's throats; seems no one's figured out the happy medium yet. All of the local Lords of Chaos are children, did you know that? Really betrays the youth of your universe. Some say there’s no embodiment of chaos quite like a child, but we both know that a determined adult can create disorder that a callow youngster couldn’t even dream of.”
The Joker stroked his chin, donning his best conspiratorial grin. “Sounds like they need a good father figure.”
“Try it and they’ll turn your blood into razors." Discord raised a talon before the Joker could answer. "That’s not a threat; that’s a warning. They might not even do it because they don’t like you, just because they think it will make you funnier.”
“Hmph. Awfully nice of you to keep me from stepping on that bear trap. Especially given all the other threats.”
Discord shrugged. “As I said, you can’t play with broken toys, and neither can I. Besides, you might actually listen to me, unlike those brats. What neither you nor they have come to realize is the amount of chaos someone can engender even as a perfectly law-abiding citizen.”
The Joker stared at him while turning the idea over. After a few moments, he shook his head. “And I thought I was crazy.”
“Well, maybe not perfectly law-abiding. And it helps to have friends in high places for the more egregious imperfections." Discord grinned. "But good behavior makes it all the harder for them to stop you before you can really get started.”
The idea slotted into place with an almost audible click. “I see where you’re going with this.”
“Do you?” And sure enough, behind all the bluster, the Joker could make out the same naive hope he'd seen in countless Arkham employees over the years, the belief that surely, this would be the treatment that could turn him around.
That was the hook. Now he just needed to reel in a catch he'd be bragging about for years. “Oh yes," he said. "Going from nemesis to adversary, the loyal opposition trying to strengthen the system by challenging its shortcomings.”
Discord nodded along. “An often unappreciated role, but a rewarding one.”
“Suppose you were to coach me along those lines?” It took more willpower than the Joker realized he had to not flutter his lashes. There was such a thing as being too obvious.
But Discord's hope still visibly flickered and died. He sighed as he unscrewed the dim, clouded eyes and socketed in a fresh pair. The disappointed look stayed on afterwards. “I might. If you were actually sincere.”
“Oh, but I am!”
“You're not," Discord with a shake of his head. "Even through the circle and your aftershave, I can smell the deceit on you. I know you, better than the imp ever did. Even if you did mean it, you couldn’t put up with it for more than a week.”
The Joker gave his most winning smile. “Sounds like a wager to me!”
“It isn’t. Points for effort, though.”
After a few more moments of looking for any crack, the Joker slumped. “Damn, you are a sharp one.”
“When I try to be. I won’t say I’ve never underestimated anyone in my time. But you? As I said, you remind me of that ex. Used me, abused me, nearly tore the universe apart when we broke up." Discord shuddered. "I’m not going through that again.”
“And I’m not going through your idea the first time," the Joker shot back. "You say you don’t want to kill me, but playing trickster mentor would do it as surely as stopping my heart.”
“Ah." Discord nodded with surprising solemnity. "I understand, I truly do. Nearly made that mistake myself once.”
“Oh?" The Joker leaned in, hands folded under his chin. "Do tell.”
Discord just smirked. “Not on your life, reformed or otherwise.”
“Well, can’t say I tried.”
“Nor I.” And with almost insulting casualness, Discord stepped through the containment circle, a trilby hat and suitcase manifesting as he made his way past the Joker. "I think we're done here. We've firmly established I can't tell you what to do, but I can't recommend trying this sort of thing again. This is you getting lucky."
“I'll take it under advisement." The Joker extended his hand. "Either way, it's been a pleasure.”
That got a thoughtful look to cross Discord's face. “You know what? I have to agree. It has.” He took the Joker's hand, and a hundred thousand volts of electricity flowed out of the palmed joy buzzer. But even as Discord crumbled to ash, he held onto his smirk. It probably hadn't even hurt him.
But, already plotting a caper that wouldn't rely on outside contractors, the Joker took solace in knowing he got the last laugh.
“It’s harder than it looks.”
Twilight Sparkle flinched, her latest alicorn growth spurt making one shocked flap of her wings nearly send her flying out of her seat. “Discord!?" She blinked as she took in his bizarrely thoughtful expression as he floated in slow circles around the throne room's ceiling. "What is?”
“Reformation. Especially getting other beings to accept it.”
“Oh." Twilight tried to settle herself, bringing her focus back to the reports she'd been going over before he'd popped in. "I figured you would have learned that with the little stunt before I took the throne.”
Several paragraphs on the Royal Guard's budget assembled themselves into a 2D version of Discord, managing to make more sense in the process. “You’re a scientist, Twilight, or at least like to think of yourself as one." Discord reached down and pulled up a pie chart from further down the scroll. "What good is one data point? And three is scarcely better.”
Twilight glared at him, and not just because he kept interrupting her. “There’s something to be said for learning from a mistake the first time.”
“Oh, I did, believe me," he said from right next to her. "You’ll note that I’m here, reflecting on your successes with various troubled unicorns, and not imprisoned in the sort of universe Spike would want to visit more than you." That got Discord to pause and stroke his goatee. "Hmm. Might have to think about that come the next O&O campaign.”
Twilight sighed and rolled up the scroll. Ignoring Discord rarely ended well anyway. “What did you do?”
“I’m still trying to make the best-case scenario for the terrible trio work, far enough from Equestria that even if everything goes wrong, you’d never know I’d messed up." His gaze shifted, and somehow Twilight knew he was looking directly at the statue garden's latest addition. "Certainly not by way of an attempted coup.”
Her stomach twisted as she considered all the implications. “If it’s that risky, even to you, I’m not sure you should be doing it.”
Discord quirked an eyebrow. “Bold words for a mare who regularly hops dimensions for guilt-free hamburgers.”
“I just don’t like the idea of my friends putting themselves at risk far from any help. Even you.” It was hard to say which of them was more surprised by Twilight's sincerity.
Discord shook off his shock first. “I do appreciate the sentiment, but I am taking every precaution I can. Including avoiding any summons from people who might actually know what they’re doing with chaos magic.”
Twilight sighed. “I can’t stop you, can I?”
“Can you?" He gave a grin slightly more deranged than his usual. "When I say I’d like to see you try, I’m being sincere. And don’t think you can just get Fluttershy to ask me; I already cleared this with her.”
“Will you at least tell me why you’re putting yourself at risk like this?" said Twilight. "If you just wanted to spread friendship and harmony in your own way, there are plenty of ways to do so in this world.”
Discord rolled his eyes. “For one, you’re really blowing the whole 'risk' thing out of proportion. Much as it disgusts me to admit it, I do have my limits, as recent events have made clear. I try to stay cognizant of them, as much as I can bear to. That includes acknowledging the possibility that someone somewhere in the great, wide multiverse might surprise me. But the odds there are very slim.
“As for why I’m doing it? Simple. I may have limits, but I hate the idea that there’s something worth doing that I cannot do. And you and your friends—mostly Fluttershy, if we’re being honest—have shown me that this reform thing is worthwhile. I want to do it, but for once, my desire isn’t a snap away.”
Understanding dawned in Twilight's mind. “You have a challenge.”
“Exactly! I haven’t had something capture my interest like this since Pinkie’s wedding. How can I not pursue it?”
She sighed and nodded. “I see. Well, at least let us know how it’s going.”
That got a snort as Discord brandished a quill in a suspiciously familiar shade of purple. “‘Dear Princess Twilight,’ that sort of thing?”
“Whatever works for you, so long as we know you’re okay.”
“Ah." The sarcasm drained out of Discord, and would probably end up staining the marble. "That much I can do. And Spike does keep insisting I owe him some comics since I was indirectly responsible for your old library blowing up. Au revoir, ma princesse, I'm off for strange new worlds.” He bowed and vanished in a burst of light.
For her part, Twilight sighed and unrolled the budget report. “I’m so glad I’m too busy to look into that further.”
Author's Note
Often referenced in this story is the Emperor Joker storyline, wherein the Joker gets all the powers—well, 99.9% of them—of Mr. Mxyzptlk, an extradimensional entity who lives to troll Superman, and nearly tears reality apart. (Also a Batman vs. the Hulk crossover from decades earlier where one of Marvel's cosmic heavyweights crashed into Gotham and laid the foundations for the in-house version. Credit to Estee for showing me that one and providing more data on Joker trucking with reality warpers.)
Likewise referenced is Cosmos, spirit of malice, who also had a rough track record with universes that had begun to bore her.
And yes, that was a Gravity Falls reference.
For more on the agent of the Canterlot Deportation Agency, see here.
