This Parody of Life
What Happens Tomorrow
He woke in the morning stiff and still very sore. The headache was mostly gone, a dull throb, but his current state had to be good enough. He had a lot of work to do.
He turned over in her bed to look at the woman lying beside him. Her long blonde hair covered part of her pale face and she still wore the deep red chemise she'd worn for the past day. It clung pleasingly to her slim curves. Harley was always pleasant to look at.
He still hated her. He reached over and stroked her silky hair and resisted the urge to tangle his fingers in it and pull it until some tore from her scalp. She would scream and he would laugh and it would feel good for a few moments. But it wouldn't be enough.
He wanted to make her hurt, hear her screams and pleads for mercy. He wanted to watch her cry until her blue eyes were red and her lips bled from trying to stifle the pain. He wanted to hit her, throw her to the floor and kick her hard enough to take her breath to stop her screams.
He wanted to watch her crawl back to him and see the torture on her fare and the question in her eyes. 'Why?' But she already knew why. He saw it in her face nearly every time she'd looked at him since he'd arrived.
She stirred a little and shifted onto her back, a small sleepy sigh escaped her parted lips, but her eyes remained closed. He would make her eyes as black as his and then admire his work. She would be beautiful in a terrible way and then he would take the rest of her. He wouldn't be nice, he'd hurt her in the most personal way and he would make her love it.
Day after day until he finally killed her, or he'd gotten enough.
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Harley took another bite of her dry toast and chewed it while she tossed a few articles of clothing into her gym bag. She tried to guess what she would need but it was difficult considering the lack of detail he'd provided. I would be a couple of days at the least, forever at the most.
She put on her black lace bra and panties and then carefully slid some black, silky pantyhose up her legs. She walked to the closet and pulled out a black suit and slid the skirt up and fastened it in place. It was the short one, the one that would distract the men she'd be dealing with so they wouldn't ask too many questions.
She put on a red silk blouse and buttoned it up just past her breasts and tucked it into her skirt. Shrugging into her suit coat, she zipped up her bag and walked to the living room where she dropped it beside his.
She headed to the bathroom where he was busy applying his face paint. His hair looked greasy from the dye he'd put in. She watched the Joker 'transform' himself with the careful application of the white then black paint which made him look like a corpse, deaths' face. He smeared the red paint over his lips and across his face to cover his scars and complete his appearance as the 'Clown from Hell.'
The menacing makeup brought to the surface his inner madness; he was always the same man beneath. From the day she'd met him she'd known there was some thing lurking beneath his handsome face. In a short time he'd found the perfect representation of that thing. It was who he was, what Gotham City was, and what the World was becoming.
He glanced at her and stepped back to allow her to slide in front of him. She applied the makeup of the 'normal' while the Dark Clown watched from behind. When she was done she stuffed the case in a small bag filled with various pills, bottles of medicine, syringes; the essentials. She brushed her long blonde hair and then looked at the mirror. The faces which stared back seemed like a strange before and after snapshot.
"Ready," he said.
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Hal was a stocky, overweight guy with thinning hair and a lot of muscle. He also had the uncanny ability to keep his mouth shut at the right times which was probably why he was still part of the Jokers crew, alive.
He was the guy who drove the Joker everywhere. The Joker, a very high-strung younger man, always seemed to relax just a little when he was alone in the backseat while Hal drove.
Two nights prior he'd seen pure elation on the young man's face he hung half out the window of the stolen police cruiser. The Jokers plan had gone off without a hitch and he was very pleased with himself. Not necessarily with the crew, they didn't mean much to the Joker.
He'd taunted Lau in the back of the cruiser and laughed like a madman as Lau became overwhelmed and bent forward covering his face with his hands, crying like a bitch. Hal was paid well to observe and take part in the Jokers sometimes horrifying plans, but reaped the small rewards. Like watching that little Asian man who thought he'd outsmarted them all break under the Jokers blade and beg for mercy. If anything, the Joker knew no mercy.
He rounded a corner and passed the familiar apartment building, a trip he'd made countless times in the past. Two nights earlier he'd been there to drop off the Joker after they'd secured Lau and the crew broke for the evening. The adrenaline had worn off and the Jokers normally hunched gait was even more so. The man was in a Lot of pain, Hal pretended not to notice.
"Where to Boss?" Hal had asked glancing at the man in the rearview mirror.
"To the place on Harrisfield." The Joker replied as he uncomfortably settled in the back. For a moment Hal worried about him. He was hurt, badly hurt. He'd seen the flip that semi had made and the stumbling stagger the Joker had made as he got back onto his feet before facing off the Batman. The guy was hurt, maybe even dying.
The Joker rested his head against the side of the car and closed his eyes. He could see the man clenching his jaws beneath his hideously scarred mouth and cheeks. He did his best to avert his gaze from the Jokers private pain as he drove, relieved when he finally reached their destination.
He'd driven a block past the five-story apartment building and pulled into an alley. What about this place was so important to the Joker, he did not know. He only nodded when the man grunted his orders and disappeared, limping, into the night.
That morning Hal had been half-surprised to wake to an early morning call from the Joker. Now he was pulling into the same alley and putting the car into park while leaving the engine run idle. He didn't have to wait long; the Joker was a punctual man.
He saw the man approaching from the other end of the alley carrying two bags and someone following close behind. The Joker was dressed in full form, his purple suit and painted mask in place. Hal was a little relieved as he still had trouble looking at the man without his makeup. The Joker was a terrible man, but this guy was just a man.
Hal got out and moved to the back of the car and opened the trunk as the Joker walked around the other side. He slung one bag into the trunk and then the other before turning towards his companion. Hal glanced at the shorter, slim form and his eyes widened. She was a woman. The Joker gave Hal a sideward glance as he slammed the trunk closed and steered his companion around to the back door. He opened it for her and closed it behind her before following Hal around to the other side of the car and getting in.
Hal put the car into drive and the Joker pulled his cell out of his coat.
"This is Harley Quinn," the Joker said dismissively, "and that's Hal." He began speaking to someone on the phone as Harley Quinn smiled at Hal. He glanced over the seat at her and nodded.
"Nice to meet you Hal." She said cheerfully.
"Likewise." Hal replied. He caught the flash of a glare from the Joker in the mirror before he returned his attention to the call.
Harley settled back and looked out the window, a peaceful expression on her face. Compared with the Joker, she did not fit. The Joker had a woman? What kind of a woman was she that she could sit next to him so serenely?
She was a very pretty blonde with blue eyes, dressed in a flattering suit with a very short skirt. Her slim, curvaceous legs were crossed and her hands were folded in her lap. The Joker nudged her and she looked over at him and her expression became annoyed.
He held up a playing card with its back facing her. She sighed heavily. "Ten of spades." she said. The Joker tossed the card to the floor and held up another one.
"Three of Diamonds." No.
"Eight of Clubs." Wrong again.
"Jack of Hearts." The Joker glanced at the card and then tucked it into a coat pocket and dialed another number. When he began speaking he held up another card. Hal stifled a laugh as the ridiculous game continued; Harley scoring eight, he supposed, before they arrived at their base of operations.
When they reached the building, the Joker got out and opened Harley's door again, but this time he grabbed her wrist and roughly pulled her up from her seat. He practically dragged the woman who miraculously didn't trip in her heels as Hal followed them inside.
The rest of the crew was already present as they knew the cost of tardiness. They looked up as the trio entered and the Joker strode to the midst of the assemblage stopping short and roughly jerking Harley to a halt beside him. Hal joined the group and watched the faces of the men who desperately tried to not look surprised.
"Harley Quinn, meet the gang." He said coolly and then turned to one of the men.
"How is our guest?" He asked and chuckled.
"He's awake and making idle threats." The man replied. The Joker smirked and then started toward the closed door on the side of the large warehouse space, dragging Harley along with him. The door slammed behind them and the men sighed in relief as the tension left the room. One of them turned to Hal.
"Who the Hell is she?" He asked, perplexed. Hal shrugged and they sat down on folding metal chairs and crates, turning their attention to the closed door.
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The room smelled of urine and Harley surmised it was Lau's. The Joker released his grip and Harley absently rubbed her wrist as she watched him stride over to Lau and pull a knife from his jacket. She frowned and wondered if it had gone through the wash at her apartment.
"Hi." The Joker said jovially as he slid the knife inside the corner of Lau's mouth. Harley stepped closer to get a better look and saw the terror in the man's eyes. She looked at the Joker's face and saw the menacing grin and decided that this was now his signature method of torture. After all, it had been quite effective on him.
"I'd like to ask again, where is the money, Lau?" The Joker's friendly voice and terrifying appearance made Lau draw back against the back of his chair. The Joker removed the knife and stared at the other man inquisitively.
"You won't kill me." Lau said, trying to sound brave. "Without me, there is no money and you are in the same position as me, with them." He finished and tried to smirk. The Joker rolled his eyes and stepped aside and gestured toward Harley.
"Well, perhaps you'll find my lovely assistant a little more persuasive." The Joker said his voice thick with sarcasm. He turned and stalked to the wall and leaned against it, his eyes on Harley.
Harley drew a breath and slowly approached Lau.
"Hello, I am Doctor Harleen Quinzel." She said cheerfully with a friendly smile. Lau eyed her warily and glanced at the ID tag she'd attached to her suit jacket identifying her as staff at Gotham General.
"My companion would like to start cutting pieces off of you, but I think you'll find my approach more appealing." She said.
She dug into her bag and withdrew a clear glass bottle and a syringe. She carefully drew some of the liquid into the syringe and then replaced the bottle. She squirted a little bit of the liquid to remove any air bubbles and then leaned over Lau.
"This is sodium pentathol," she said expertly, "also known as Truth Serum." She injected the solution into one of Lau's bound arms as he watched in horror. She dropped the syringe which shattered on the concrete floor and folded her arms, watching him for a few minutes.
"So, Mr. Lau, where is the money?" She asked sweetly. His head lolled and he blinked up at her.
"The money?" He asked disoriented. Harley pressed her lips together.
"The Mob money," She replied, "Remember it's either this way, or His way." Lau looked behind her at the Joker and then back at her. He swallowed hard.
"It's at the shipping docks." He replied. "In two containers marked DAXTC9823 and DAXTC9832." Harley nodded as she noted the container numbers and then turned to the Joker.
"He's all yours." She smiled. He grinned widely and they passed one another as she left the room.
The screams began before the door closed behind her.