It had been an arduous and positively bloodsoaked week, but thanks to The Suicide Squad's assisstance, Corto Maltese was finally free of the influence of all previous despots that composed Mateo Suarez's entourage. It was now free to establish democratic elections. There was just one problem…
"Bloody 'ell, I think that Sol Soria chick's dead." Captain Boomerang said, kneeling down and gently poking a bullet-ridden corpse on the floor of President Suarez' former mansion.
"What?!" Rick said. "She was our contact! Who was in charge of protecting her?"
All but one of Rick's fourteen compatriots pointed out a certain bazooka-toting juggalo.
"Aw, don't be like that, teach. In my defense, she said she was going to kill everyone in the palace." Harley explained. "Including the servants who had nothin' to do with anything. For all we know, she could have been just as bad as Suarez. I viewed protecting her as a guideline versus an actual rule."
"Hmm. Fair enough." Rick said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "But there's a problem that arises as a result - the rebels asked us to help them keep the peace until emergency elections can be held. Soria was the frontrunner, but without her, we don't have a game plan. Waller only sent in fifteen of us because that was enough to sneak in unnoticed and keep her safe."
"And there's another issue." Peacemaker said. "Ms. Waller confided in me that isn't interested in another candidate, Soria was the only one non-antagonistic to The U.S of A. So we'd need someone who can satisfy that need as well."
"Who in this country is dumb enough to be a puppet but smart enough so they can rule wisely?" Mongal asked.
"Wait…" Thinker smiled. "I think I have an idea."
…
The entire world was listening to the first official press conference of The Party Party's official candidate announcement made from The Corto Maltese Center of the Arts. Everyone was dressed colorfully, to the point the center more resembled a menagerie of birds versus a press conference. A rhythmic tapping of the microphone indicated the speech was about to begin.
"Good evening, ladeez and gentle-men!" Harley announced. "We are The Suicide Squad featuring The Birds of Prey, and we are tonight's entertainment. I am proud to introduce the first official candidate of the Party Party… the one, the only, the infamous…"
"ME. Harley Quinn!" Harley squealed, barely able to contain her excitement. "And my vice president, that rapscallion of a rodent, John Monroe, A.K.A Werewolf! Er-yes, Ratcatcher?"
"Harley, John is not a werewolf." Ratcatcher whispered. "He's a weasel, and goes by such. And while announcing your vice president is a werewolf is the far more concerning of your statements, Weasels aren't even rodents to begin with. They belong to the genus mustela."
The hopeful vice president was currently biting at his own arm, drooling all over his suit.
"My bad, fellow Corto Maltese Falcons. Corto Malt Milkshakes. Corto- clowns. I'm going to call you all clowns." Harley chuckled awkwardly. "Boy, that sure was a rough start. I know what you're thinkin', this woman wants to be our leader? How did she even become a doctor? Well, there's an easy explanation to that - my PHD came from a cereal box."
"I don't always express myself the best through small talk, but that was the problem with the last couple of leaders, right? They talked and talked to drown out all they did, to trick people into thinking they had their best interests at heart? That's not how I'm gonna do things. I'm gonna put my money where my mouth is. And the way I'm going to cash that check is through a song!"
A cacophony of chatter filled the center, but Lois Lane loudly proclaiming WHAT could be distinctly heard.
"Gentlemen, let's broaden our minds! Cassandra?"
Harley's adoptive daughter held up and flipped the switch on the boombox. And so, Harley broke into a rendition of the Prince's Partyman. Yes, really. Aside from vocals provided by The Birds of Prey and The Suicide Squad and slightly altered lyrics referring to Harley as Partyma'am and asking the audience to "all hail the new queen in town," it was the same exact song.
The reporters all sat in amazement, jaws open as they saw colorfully dressed metahumans all dancing around and singing. It didn't even stop there, a few were even knocking over vases and splattering paint all over the works of art for no real reason. A priceless piece by Paul Dekker now proclaimed "I LOVE purple!" - President Harls.
When the whole song was done, Harley and her respective teams interlocked hands and bowed to stunned silence.
"So anyways, that's my speech, vote for me in this upcoming election, please. Or else. My free do-over of this museum is only the first step of what's to come for my beautification plan! Anything you want to add, Vice-President Weasel?"
"Enh! Enh! Enh!" Weasel hissed. Although his singing amounted to little more than incoherent, delighted screeching, his understanding of the choreography had been surprisingly fluid. Especially for a member of the mustelidae family.
"Couldn't have said it bettuh!" Harley clapped cheerfully. "Anyways, I love all my little clowns! Be sure to vote!"
"That went great!" Rick said, pumping his fist in the air as Harley's entourage got in her bus. "Could have been a real disaster."
"Well, that was a disaster." Lois Lane sighed.
"And yet she'd still make a better president than Lex Luthor." Clark Kent observed.