A/N - This story is dedicated to Blumenkasten.
Disclaimer: I don't own Suicide Squad.
Without his Queen, everything was...pointless.
There was no drug he could take that would be powerful enough to kill his longing for her.
No rest had been obtained, no deals made, nothing.
Damn.
Why was he so torn up about her?
Suddenly, the door to his suite opened.
His head quickly shot up, and he instinctively raised his pistol, ready to fire at the first thing he saw.
He relaxed a little when he realized that the opposing threat was only that of one of his henchmen.
Well, 'henchmen' seemed slightly disrespectful for what good ol' Johnny Boy was. Because Frost wasn't just any thug he'd find off the street.
No, Johnny was more to him than that.
More... valuable.
Other than Harley, of course, Johnny was just about the only other human being on the planet that Joker had even come close to trusting.
Not only did he follow whatever orders Joker gave, but he also respected him more than any other henchman ever did. He knew what not to do, or to say, knew when to talk, and when to keep his mouth shut. For your common thug, he was very observant when it came to people, and he could always pick up on whether or not Joker was in a 'mood'.
So when Johnny came waltzing in through the door to his suite, Joker thought better of trying to hide his misery from him. He'd pick up on it anyway. Always did.
"Where is she?" Joker demanded, lowering his gun.
If he was going to interrupt his brooding, then he had better have some sort of new information concerning Harley's whereabouts.
Johnny tilted his head to the side, observing Joker's behavior as he cautiously held up his hands to indicate that he didn't mean to disturb him, and would gladly leave if he'd requested him to.
"It's a complex," he said, eying him cautiously as he slowly sat himself down. "It's not just her, everybody's disappeared. There's this new law where if you're a bad enough bad guy they state 'terrorist' on your jacket, and they send you to this swamp in Louisiana. Black site. That's where she is..." he trailed off for a moment. "So, what are we doin'?"
The Joker was silent for a few seconds, processing the new information he'd been given.
He sucked in a quick, agitated breath of air, and said; "Bring the car around...we're going for a drive."
Slowly, he shifted his body and rested his back on the floor. His figure perfectly surrounded by his hundreds of collected trinkets.
Knives of every length, guns of every size, leaned up against the walls, sprawled out on the floor. Countless objects were lying everywhere.
He spread out his arms, and cackled at the ceiling.
Frost happened to deliver the one good piece of news that he'd heard all month; Harley had been found; now all he had to do was reclaim her.
And that alone was enough to finally humor The Joker and put a smile on his face.
Leave it all to Good ol' Johnny Boy.