"Harlequinn. Harlequinn, come out and play!" he cackled. There was an immediate clatter of cans, hubcaps and junk. She spun to face the threat.

A life-sized doll in a jester outfit stumbled its way into the light. It was shaped in an exaggerated female form, big tits too firm to be silicon and wide hips rocking with each step. Its face was a perfect cupie doll grown up, except pale with painted black eyes and a cherry-red grin to match the Joker's. Its eyes were animalistic, too. Flat and dark. Like the Joker's, lacking only in that unmistakable, mad lust driven by intellect.

It came at her at first, unstable, as if waking. But as it approached, its movements became fluid and soon, it moved more like a human.

It stopped, staring at her.

"Sweet pea, this is Harlequinn. She's the newest version of you. I told my man that this was a better option anyway. Can't trust a real woman." He crowed at his own joke for a moment, before he gave the order, "Harlequinn, untie me. If she gets in your way, destroy her. Can you handle that?"

The robot only smiled in response and made her way to the Joker.

The Joker raised his eyebrows, "Seems like you two have something in common. Action over words."

But Jurni didn't let Harlequinn get close enough. She came at the robot from the side, a flying punch to the head. It never landed. She received a surprise blow from the unit, a solid jab to her chin that sent Jurni flying back to the ground.

"Destroy," Harlequinn repeated her parameters. Jurni shook her head to free it from the haze. She stood to her feet in time to get a well-placed kick to the stomach. She didn't fall, though.

She grabbed onto Harlequinn's head with both powerful hands and pulled with all her might. She began to turn, trying to get the robot off its feet, but Harlequinn fought back with the power of hydraulic machinery. Jurni was about to lose her own balance when she acted on impulse and used their momentum to send them both head over heel, leaving Jurni on top and bashing the shit out of Harlequinn's head into the concrete floor. Sparks flew, strange motorized whirring became screeching; there was smoke and then a dying buzz. Robotic arms and legs flailed as systems malfunctioned and it finally died an electric death. Harlequinn's plastic face melted from the internal burnout. A wheeze, a final spark and Harlequinn moved no more.

"Hmm," he sounded deflated.

Joker did not laugh this time. He looked puzzled as Jurni stood from her victory and turned to face him.

"That was entertaining. Not what I was expecting."

She shrugged and let her smile return, "Me, neither."

He stared at her, "Now, what?"

"You have any more tricks?" she asked, a little out of breath, catching her bearings after the adrenaline rush.

"You mean more Harlequinn?" he asked, peeking around her to get a glimpse of the broken attack doll.

"Yup."

"She was one of a kind," he sighed up at her as she stood at his bedside. He was getting really tired of being tied down.

"I understand that you are crazy."

He glowered and couldn't resist, "See, you're wrong there."

"I am?"

"Very wrong," he shook his head. His tone had changed completely. Serious.

"Why would you think you're not?"

He tilted his chin up as if about to lecture her, "I have code."

"You operate outside the normal behavior of humankind."

He narrowed his eyes, "You could say that, but that's not crazy, lovely. That's thinking ahead."

Jurni mulled that over for a bit. He gave a quick little nod as if to encourage her enlightenment. She gave half a shrug, "Maybe. The point is, you don't find thrills where most people find thrills."

"True. What're you driving at, by the way? I'm needing to scratch a very sensitive area. It's getting itchy. Can't do that all tied up."

"A sensitive area?"

He rolled his head around, "Well, yes. Quite. Unless you'd like to…" he began, poking out his lower jaw and then tucking it back in, "…take care of it."

"That's actually what I was driving at, Mr. Joker."

"Mister Joker?" he quirked.

"Has a ring to it," she insisted.

"Master, maybe. Not mister."

"At any rate, I'd be happy to scratch an itch for you. That's exactly what I came to discuss with you anyway."

"What? My genital area needing attention?" his voice rose comically, laced with high-pitched laughter.

She waited a beat, then -- "Perhaps."

His eyes widened and slowly, so slowly, his head cocked to the left and he stared at her as if she'd just grown a pair of horns.

Jurni's eyes traced down from his to his exposed chest and then to the thread-like blood lines she'd left on the skin there, the bright red rose of his nipple, torn in half. The drops beading up like stitches through the cuts.

"This isn't about revenge, is it?" he sounded delighted. She met his gaze once more. She shook her head.

"Well, wow, wow," was all he said at first. She put her hands back on his body, starting at his shoulders, kneading the muscles there. She couldn't feel anything, just the solidity of his form, not the warmth or his pulse. He spoke under her absent-minded ministrations, "What've you got for me, then? I hope you're proposing. You know I'm not that kind of a girl." He batted his lashes.

She couldn't bring herself to smile at that, so entranced was she in his body, in the complicated world that it housed. Down to the fastening of his pants.

His breathing sped up, like a captured animal.

She was triggering something in him, something new. He was acting afraid all of a sudden. Why? Surely he didn't fear her maiming him? He was like no other man alive. But in this, could he really be the same? Did he fear this? The possibility of her castrating him, ruining him there? That was a strange possibility.

"I have all night with you," she heard herself say.

He frowned then, glared at her, "What do you expect of me, sweat pea?"

She opened the fly to reveal dark, curly hair and a half-hard penis… And how viciously it had been scarred. She arched a brow.

He finally let out a signature laugh, throwing his head back, "What did you expect?" he called out with hilarity, "Are you here to scare me? Or fuck me?"

She gave him look then, "You think it's impossible to do either, don't you?"

His voice dropped from that insane, whiny pitch as he dipped his chin down and looked up at her, "Sugar plum, I have learned… Nothing's impossible." He tilted his head, curious and calm.

"You have a death wish," she pointed out, unsure why she'd said it, following impulses laid out in her mind like a rabbit trail.

He rattled off without pause, "I have a wish for fun. A fun wish. Test me! That's what this is about, I realized, by the way. Power."

"No, no, no," she responded as she slid her metal hand down to his waning manhood and stroked there until she actuated the spike from her fingertip and firmly took a hold of him. He hissed, and wanted to buck, but didn't, "I want only to see how far we can go."

He looked confused for a moment, baring his teeth, glancing from her shiny hand around him back to her placid face, "Come here," he ordered.

She didn't hesitate. She moved her upper body closer to his, bending down as she'd done before. So close she could feel his heat through her top.

"I won't kill you," he assured her, a waver to his voice that spoke of how close to laughter he was. His breath was on her neck now. She tensed as he urged her, "Let me show you how far we can go."

"I just need a teacher," she uttered, again startled by her own confession, carried away in a foreign power that pumped through her body and mind.

"I see now," he told her, and after only a split second's thought, she let go his cock and cut through his restraints in two slices with her mechanical arms. He didn't spring on her like she'd anticipated. She held her breath as they met eyes. He sat up on the gurney, slowly.

"On your knees," he muttered.

She dropped before him onto her knees.

Just at that moment, there was a commotion outside. Gunshots. She sprang to her feet. He only leaned to the side to see around her at the door.

Masked gunmen. Angry midgets in Viking helmets. It was a unique sight.

She ran toward them, but didn't get far. She was tackled from behind. Her head bounced against the warehouse floor. Stars blasted through her vision. She couldn't hear much of anything but a ringing. Her vision was blurred.

Even in this state, she fought. Her powerful arms overcame the Joker with no problem. She rolled on top of him, a fistful of his green hair in her hand. He grabbed at her hips and rolled. He gained the advantage and offered a powerful blow of his fist to her already bruised face.

Shots glanced off walls and I-beams. There was shouting. Then, sirens. The party broke up. The Joker knew when it was time to leave. He stood from his fight and ran, ignoring the gashes she left in his sides, the blood that poured freely from him.

"We'll be together soon, my dear," he cackled, already disappeared from view. He was quick. It made her wonder briefly if he'd had the genius who'd done work on her also install those reflex implants on the Joker. Yeah, they'd done more to her than upgrade her arm-ware.

Right now, the world was fuzzy. Harlequinn had already taken her down a notch and those blows to the head made her woozy. Lights swirled as she struggled to stand and lurch towards the back stairs.

They were already there, though. The police. Joker's henchmen must've overrun her security and started an attention-attracting gunfight. Must've been more clowns in reserves than she'd anticipated. She wouldn't make that mistake again. Provided there'd be an "again". She smiled at the memory of their exchange, even as the men in blue surrounded her, weapons drawn. She raised her arms. They screamed "Drop your weapons" and she laughed at that.

"They're not weapons," Earn said to Vincent as his partner shuffled into the office. It was almost dawn. They were both worn and tired. Earn scooted the pictures of their prisoner towards the man, "They're prosthetics. Harmless, as far as we can tell, but remarkable in design. Way ahead of the times."

"What's her name?"

"Dunno. No matches."

"She won't cooperate?"

"Won't give us a name, where she's from, nothin'."

"You said there were bodies."

"Plenty of 'em. Half of 'em were midgets."

"No shit?"

Earn shook his head.

Vincent stared at the crime scene photos, "I'm sorry I missed it."

"Yeah, damn those off days, huh?"

He shuffled through the images, "Really. How many times does a guy get to see a midget massacre?"

"I'm sure that's what the press would love to call it."

"What're they callin' it?"

"Haven't read the paper today. Too busy with this one," he nodded toward the pictures of Jurni.

"She's not said anything at all, then?"

"Got a female officer in there now, askin' some general questions, just to see if that'll work…"

"I got it," came a voice across the office. A few cops turned, most just continued with their paper work.

Detectives Earn and Vincent recognized the voice. Matt, the rookie, jogged up to them, "I thought I recognized her!"

He laid an old picture of their mystery girl in front of them. It was from the newspaper.

"Jurni Caulin," Vincent read.

"The Joker's bomb girl?!" Earn couldn't believe it.

"Frickin' wild, huh?" Matt's eyes were wide, so happy was he with himself.

"And now she's in a warehouse with midgets and Joker's men all shot to hell?"

"Sounds like some kinda motive."

"And what about those arms?"

"Sounds like a helluva explanation if we can get it out of her."

"The doc says she's probably unstable upstairs."

"Makes sense, after what she's had to have been through. The bomb. The recovery. The arms. Matt," – the rookie perked up – "Get us everything you can on this woman, every detail of her life, people she knew, where she was born, her habits. Everything about everyone she's connected to."

"Even the Joker?" the younger man asked.

"Even him. And while you're at it, get information on the victims from the shootout. I'm interested in the 'little people'. I want their motive. I want the connection between them and her," he pointed at the newspaper picture of Jurni Caulin.