Tommy came over yesterday morning and did two more tattoos for me. One is a cuff of red and black diamonds that goes around my right forearm and the other reads "Daddy's Lil Monster" in flowing script over my heart. After wrapping those up in clear plastic I found my harlequin suit and got dressed, once again painting my face and putting on the jester cowl. Then I drove the Quinnmobile to the Toybox. Frankie had a few more friends from my list brought in. Today, I worked with Melinda.

When I walked into the bare room, she was already strung up in a Palestinian Hanging. She was hung by her arms which were behind her head. The position dislocates the shoulders and makes it very hard for people to breathe. And after all the vehemence she'd poured on my head, she deserves to struggle to breathe.

"Melinda Johannsen. So good of you to be here today."

"Who are you?"

"Aw, don't you recognize me, Auntie?"

She paused a moment, then looked at me with horror, "Harleen?"

"Not anymore. I'm Harley."

"What … what are you doing?"

"Simple. I'm going to kill you."

Her eyes widened, "It was you. You killed my father!"

"Yep. I beat him bloody."

"You monster!"

"Yep." I pointed to my jawbone, "Always was Rotten, wasn't I, Auntie?"

She wordlessly shrieked at me. Seemed she wasn't at the hard to breathe stage yet.

"Then again, maybe I wouldn't have been if you'd have bothered to show me any kindness. Did you ever stop to think about what you all were doing to me?"

"What we did doesn't deserve murder!"

"What you did made me this. So, whatever I do, wherever I go, whoever I kill … it's all your fault. Yours and the others. You molded your children into tiny beings of hate and now you wonder where you went wrong."

"There's nothing wrong with my children."

"Sure, Auntie. Keep telling yourself that."

Oscar brought in a cat o'nine tails and Melinda yelped in terror. "What do you think, Ozzy? Shirt on or off?"

"That'll tear through her shirt like nothing's there."

I nodded, "You're right, Ozzy. Cut the shirt off her."

It was more demeaning to be half-naked. He left for a moment and came back with a buck knife. He made quick work of the shirt, slicing it away from her flesh and even nicking her once. She was weeping by the time he was done.

"Please don't do this."

"How many times do you think I said those words? How many nights do you think I begged for some form of love?"

"You never said anything."

"Not to you. Never to those who were abusing me." I picked up the cat o'nine tails and let the whips drag on the floor as I walked behind her. She sobbed; the anticipation more terrifying than the pain of being hit.

The first lash brought welts and long streaks of blood across her back. Again, I whipped her, drawing out more evidence of my torture. With every lash of the whips, she shrieked and cried, begging me to stop. But they never did, even when it was evident how much they were hurting me. So why should I?

Before I was done, she stopped all her sounds and hung limply. I hit her twice more before going to investigate and found that the bitch had died. Furiously, I screamed. She wasn't supposed to be dead yet. I'd had so much more planned for her. Minimum a week of daily plans and she fucking died. I took the knife Ozzy had left and began stabbing the corpse.

"You fucking bitch, you fucking bitch!" I stabbed her again and again, pouring all my rage into each blow, "Not supposed to be dead, fucking cunt! You stole from me! Stole my plans. Stole my revenge. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, cunt!"

I threw the knife to the floor and screamed again. Probably had a heart attack. But she's young for it.

I wasn't supposed to move on to my cousin yet. She was supposed to stay in the cold room for a few days before I saw her. But maybe it was time to bring her out and have some fun.

Before I could decide Jonny showed up and told me that J had more of his own plans going on that night.

"He wants you with him, in the bulletproof thing."

"I guess I need to change then, don't I?"

He followed me out of the Toybox and I drove us back to the high rise. After I changed, I asked Jonny what the plan was for that evening.

"The shooting stations."

I lit up, "I want a sniper rifle!"

Jonny chuckled, "I'm sure he'll be fine with that. Have you used one? There's a specific way you need to shoot and I don't know if it will really work out with what he's got going on."

"I'll be fine. I wanna watch heads explode!"

DING went the elevator and soon J strode into the kitchen, "Hello, beautiful."

"Hiya, Puddin'!"

"You ready to go?"

"I want a sniper rifle!"

He laughed the laugh that I love and drew me into his arms, "Whatever your little heart desires, Pumpkin."

Frankie met us at the silver Audi A8 L W12, where he was loading the trunk with weapons. Jonny got in the driver's seat and J slipped into the front passenger side. Frankie and I climbed into the back and we were on our way.

"We still gonna be across from the police station?"

"Yes."

"Good. I wanna shoot some piggies." I snorted like a pig and Frankie laughed.

Once we were set up on the roof of the building across from Gotham Police Station, Jonny radioed the rest of the guys.

"Team 4, you're a go."

Somewhere in Gotham a group of our guys started shooting random citizens. The other groups were gathered in strategic locations. One infiltrating the local TV station so it would broadcast everywhere that the Joker was attacking Gotham. It was always easy to distinguish our boys because they wore extravagant and sometimes silly costumes. It was likely that team 4 was at the TV station. J wanted the Bat on his trail, but not close enough we could get caught.

Jonny waited a few minutes and said, "Team 2, go."

Where were the other shooting stations? Let me think a minute. It's been a while since J told me this particular revenge plot. One was at City Hall. Another at Gotham Elementary, where there just happened to be a concert going on this evening. There was the TV station and here, Gotham Police Station. Then there was Gotham Fire Station and Gotham hospital. The last one was in the most expensive hotel in Gotham City. Jonny called out the teams as Frankie helped me get the sniper rifle ready.

Once the police started streaming out of the station to help the victims, we started our assault. I aimed and missed twice, cursing loudly about it before Jonny came over and placed his arms around me from behind, showing me how to hold it properly.

"Take three deep breaths and after the last exhale, hold it for 1-3 seconds. That's your sweet spot for shooting. Squeeze the trigger slowly, don't jerk it. You want a slow, steady follow through all the way back, so don't let go after you feel the shot. Once it breaks, you want to continue the squeeze to the rear and then slowly release the trigger to the front. Now, with the kick from the gun, you want it to come straight back at you, so if it kicks at an angle, you're holding it wrong. … Good. You got him!"

I squealed happily. Jonny helped me rack another bullet and then moved off the shoot on his own.

BAM

BAM

BAM

BAM

Each shot after Jonny's teaching hit my target in some way. They weren't all headshots, but I hit each cop in turn.

The Bat and Boy Wonder never showed, at least not where we were. Since we'd been the last place to start shooting, the Caped Crusaders went to the TV station first. By the time they made it through all the shooting stations, we were long gone. The news was reporting on our murder spree by the time we got home. I don't know how many people died, but I know it was a lot. J wanted to hurt Batman with his inability to do anything to save the people of Gotham. Even if he shut down one of our teams, the rest were still wreaking havoc. The loss of life was cataclysmic, and Batman would blame himself. Win/win.