There's a slight jolt as Jay's purple Caddy rolls to a stop. We're in front of the Bailey Casino and he's already out of the car and waiting, knocking on the window impatiently.
I step out and grab my gun careful to conceal it in the waist of my jeans under my shirt. "Jesus, Harley, you trying to blow this operation or what? Speed it up a little, will ya..." He's yanking me by my arm to the shiny glass doors of the building.
He's got his face in my face and I think about how dreamy he is. He's snapping his fingers, "You dumb and deaf? I said make sure you stay behind me when we meet Bailey. I don't want you screwing this up, I gotta lot of money invested in this and it's gonna make one hell of a joke for Bats."
He smells like green apple. "Sure thing, Mistah Jay. Stay behind ya." I put my hand up in a mock salute and he smiles. "Good. Hope you're feeling trigger happy, doll, I feel a good old fashion show down is in the near future." He laughs and we're on the move again.
I follow him closely thought the casino, past flashing lights and the suffocating smell of cigarette smoke. Some Lucky Lou is yelling happily in the back somewhere, "...I'm rich! I'm rich! 45 grand, baby! Hell yeah!" Pff. 45 grand is chump change when you rob banks. I still smile for him.
Jay is at the back of the building, knocking at a door partially hidden by old penny machines. I almost slap myself and run off after him, stay behind me.
Yikes.
The doors open now and some bulging brute is asking us for a password or a bullet to the head. I don't particularly want my body to end up in a sewer somewhere so I hope Jay has the password.
"A robin redbreast in a cage."
The hell if I know what that means but Jay is grinning and giving me the signal so I follow him and the giant fellow through the door and up some stairs. It's a whole new world behind the door, some sort of club like Cobblepot's. There's music with a loud bass and couches with people sucking face, a bartender argues with some chump who seems to be heavily drunk, there's colorful lights and I wonder if these people will be dead when the shooting starts.
Probably.
I almost feel bad. But Jay's knocking at another more official looking door and the excited butterflies began flying around my stomach. This is it.
Some chump with prison tats opens the door and we walk into a room with no windows. There's a fat man at a desk and I assume this is Bailey. He's counting money and doesn't even bother looking up when we walk in, that's how you know they think they're the hot shit. They don't acknowledge you.
Childs play.
"Bailey, my fine gentleman!" Jay's speaking now and the bastard finally looks at him. "Boy do I have a proposition for you..." He pulls his gun from his pocket and aims it right at Bailey's bald head. His eyes bulge and two meaty guards run towards Jay, ready to knock him on his ass.
"Anytime, Harley Girl..." He whispers at me. I'm already in action, pulling two more guns (the big, impressive looking ones, the ones that scare people more) out of the fake plants and shooting both knuckleheads in the knees.
They yell and fall to the floor, reaching for their own holsters only to realize they're empty. "You move and I blow ya brains out all over this nice carpet, capiche?" They nod dumbly.
Piece of cake.
Jay grins and leans closer to Bailey's sweaty forehead and laughs, "What my girl said, Bailey Boy. Keep still." He digs through his desk drawer keeping the gun trained on his temple.
"Whatcha looking for, Puddin?" He grunts and holds up a few fake ID cards and the deed to the casino. "This golden goose right here, Harley darling." He tosses the loot by my feet and clicks the safety off his gun. Bailey is begging and pleading and whimpering, like most people before they die, and I smile.
"The clock strikes noon!" He fires a bullet through Bailey's fat head and the two injured guards try to take us down. They're Swiss cheese in an instant and we're on our way back into the hidden club, guns blazing.
Armed guards rush in like mice and we take them out until there's no one left. I wipe some blood off Jay's creamy cheek and he slaps my hand away. "Gotta go before the cops show up, Harles, time to blow this joint!" We run back through the casino and I faintly hear the same chump yelling about his 45 grand before we're out the front doors and on our way to the Caddy.
I hop in and we speed off down the street, 105 mph and growing. I kiss my baby and he lets me, handing me the cards and deed. "We did it, Harley Girl. You weren't a complete screw up this time!" I grin and feel almost light headed.
I'm not a screw up!
I'm still smiling when red and blue lights flash behind us. It's a familiar game. Cops show up, we race off, they end up flipped or on fire, we get away. Sometimes we're not so lucky and they drag us back to Arkham, but I feel on top of the world and there's no way they'll catch us!
Jay looks concerned and grips the wheel tighter. His brows are furrowed and he looks like he's considering his options. "Doll, would you be a dear and hand me the deed and ID's?" My giddiness fades and I hand him the stuff. Something wasn't right.
He reaches over with one hand still on the steering wheel and unbuckled my belt. "What... what're ya doing, Mistah Jay?" He kisses me and it sends me into utter bliss. I hear a click and he whispers something. "Sorry, Harley, can't afford to blow this! You know how it is.."
And just like that my door is open and I'm falling, falling, bouncing, hurting.
Darkness.