Harley walked towards him, her little touch of jealousy making her bold. A dangerous and playful idea had popped into her head. Instead of going to stand by the man she was truly interested in, she stopped beside one of the henchmen. He was shorter than Joker, but also a little more muscular. He was one of those in a mask, but that didn't matter. Harley stepped even closer to him, walking her fingers up his impressive bicep. She watched him shiver slightly, hoping Joker noticed. Looking over at him, her hopes were confirmed.
"So, let me get this straight, Mistah J. The basic idea is that the Bats knows we have little miss sunshine, daughter of his favorite friend in high places, and he's gonna come here to save her pretty little tush. In amongst all the rough housing-"
Here, Harley suddenly gripped the man's neck and jerked it a little,
"We put a little tracking collar on the Bat"
As she said this, she gently traced her fingertips in a pantomime of a collar around the henchmen's neck. He swallowed nervously. Harley was enjoying this, perhaps too much. She'd never had this kind of power.
Joker then returned the play, taking a piece of Barbra's hair into his hand and rubbing the strands across his fingertips,
"Exactly, Har. Now, you have two jobs in all of this. First, don't get caught up in all the 'rough-housing'"
He gripped the red strands tighter, pulling poor Barbra's head towards him a little. She let out a startled cry, and then quickly silenced herself. Harley had to give her props-she was holding up pretty well. She became curious as to just how much the high schooler could take.
"Your other job is to make sure Miss Gordon remains unharmed. I really don't care whether or not the Bat rescues her, just not until after we've got him tagged. Understand?"
"Just one thing-why can't we harm one little hair on Red's head?"
"It's not her time yet. And if it happens to her, it happens to you, got it Har?"
Harley nodded. She smiled voluptuously, and then placed herself directly in front of the man. She'd have to wait till later to test Barbie's stamina, but for now, teasing Joker sounded like an awful lot of fun, too. She brought the man's arms to wrap around her waist and pushed her backside up against him. She could feel his heart racing. What was he so nervous about?
"So I've got to defend Red, all by my little old self? No big, strong man to protect me?"
She pouted softly. She started to bring the man's hands up her belly, and then closed her eyes softly, enjoying the euphoria of control.
Out of seemingly nowhere, Joker leveled a gun at her. He let off a shot, without aiming, just pointed in her general direction. She screamed, fearing for the worst. Apparently his tolerance for her promiscuity had been very low. But she quickly came to the realization that he hadn't shot her. And had never intended to. The man behind her suddenly became limp, and fell to the floor with a bullet in his forehead.
"That's what you brought one of these for, Har. Now stop screwing around and get over here where you should be!"
Between realizing that the man she'd been flirting with only moments before was dead, and hearing the rage the Joker had leveled at her, Harley quickly snapped out of her little dominatrix game. She walked ashamed and crestfallen to stand submissively beside him and Barbra. He came up to stand behind her, breathing on her neck. He then brought both arms to rest on hers and lifted her hands up until she now held her small gun at shooting level. She trembled slightly as she sensed the anger radiating off of him. She'd upset him, a mistake she'd be sure not to make in the future.
"Now, you know how to use one of these?"
"No, I've never…"
"Of course you haven't. But you'll use one tonight"
Harley looked around the room. The henchmen were no longer really paying attention-some had taken out playing cards, others stood in small groups smoking. Joker moved her arms more, bending her elbows slightly and making sure her shoulders were firm.
"So, first you get a little practice"
He then made her aim the gun at yet another henchman. Harley could see the sweat break out across the man's brow-he was one of those in makeup, and it started to bead down his face.
"I-I can't"
"Why not?"
"He hasn't done anything"
"Ah. So, your conscience is still there. Fine, we can work around that"
Joker then redirected her aim to the dead man, the one that Harley had been toying with.
"Shoot him then, he's already dead"
She swallowed nervously, closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. As the sound erupted, she felt Joker's hands slide down from her arms and encircle her waist. He leaned in closer to her, she could her the sound as he again licked his lips. Harley couldn't tell if it was just a habit, or out of necessity from the scars.
She lowered the gun, shaking a little. She finally opened her eyes, and saw that now there were two henchmen on the ground. Harley felt Joker smile at her ear,
"You missed. Go finish it"
"I, no, maybe we should take him to a hospital?"
Several of the men standing around chuckled. Poor Barbra seemed to be reciting a litany or Bible phrase to comfort herself, and rocked gently back and forth in the chair. Joker stood back from Harley, and shook his head in disappointment.
"Now, Har, do you really think taking him to the hospital, a public hospital, with records and cameras, would be a good idea?"
She looked down, realizing her error. But she couldn't kill a man-not one that had done nothing to her.
"Of course not, of course not. So, that leaves us with two options. Let him suffer and slowly bleed to death. Or, put him out of his misery. Which is it gonna be, sweetheart?"
He then looked at her, motioning his arm towards the man bleeding on the ground and gave her an expectant look. She just shook her head,
"I'm sorry…"
She felt tears start to well up again. This wasn't at all what she'd had in mind for tonight. There wasn't dancing, or cheap party food, or even beer. She wanted to go home. But that part of her that craved the excitement, the part that had led her all these past weeks into the Joker's arms, kept her there.
He then sighed, seeing the tears, and walked towards her. Once he stood in front of her, she realized that he held his arms aloft, like he was ready to waltz.
"May I have this dance?"
Cocking her head in confusion, Harley could only accommodate. Joker then shouted to the DJ,
"Something with a little more class"
Harley didn't know much about waltz, but apparently her partner did. He led her in several turns and fox-trot like steps. Then, they were dancing around the dying man. Harley could feel the warm moisture of his blood penetrating the thin fabric that covered her feet. Joker leaned in close to her, so his lips were right next to her ear lobe,
"We'll do it together"
Suddenly, his mouth was on hers, slowly massaging her lips until she parted them ever so slightly. They'd stopped dancing now, and she brought her freed hand up behind his head, gripping his hair softly. She felt all of her fears and stress drain away as his kiss melted her. She felt his hand run down her other arm, towards the gun. She knew what he meant to do now, but she didn't care. This was by far the best kiss of her life. As he raised the gun in her hand and aimed it at the dying man, Harley felt a heat bloom in her belly. She didn't know which was arousing her more-his tender kiss, or his violent intentions. As he pushed her finger against the trigger and let the bullet ring free from the gun, Harley pushed her hips against his, not being able to resist the urge to rub herself against him. He then ended the kiss,
"Hmm, not yet, Harley. We have work to do first. Then pleasure"
In reality, Joker had no intentions of letting his physical fantasy happen until he knew that Harley Quinn was no more. He would have to see her kill, in cold blood, on her own before she could truly be his partner in crime and passion. Then, and only then, when her former self was completely demolished in that act, would she become Harlequin, one and only trusted accomplice to the Joker.
He led her back to Barbra, who now seemed to have calmed down somewhat. Once they were standing beside the red-head, Joker gave his final instructions to Harley. He held up both hands, with the fingers up for counting off,
"Now, this is a 10-chamber handgun. You've shot three times already, which means you've got seven left. If the Bat comes at you, just point in his general direction and shoot. Keep shooting until there aren't any more bullets"
"But, won't I kill him?"
Again, several men laughed, Joker just smiled,
"If you do, I'll be very proud. But the Bat's got body armor or something. You should at least slow him down, give yourself enough time to get out of there, or the boys to get the tracker on"
Joker then simply walked away, arms crossed behind his back to stand in front of something Harley hadn't noticed earlier. It looked like a huge spot light, like the ones used in the theatre, but much, much bigger. Leading off to one of the walls was a gigantic extension cord. Joker picked up a cable coming from the light, and one end of the extension cord, then turned to his audience,
"It's show time"
He then connected the two cables. As he did, the huge light sputtered, came on, then winked back out. Joker looked around the room, sighed, and kicked the light. Suddenly, it burst back on. Now, Harley could see that the warehouse they were in was very dilapidated-the section of roof over the light had crumbled away, so that the spotlight was able to shine onto the smog clouds overhead. Harley stared up-it was the Batlight! She'd heard that Commissioner Gordon had had it destroyed, after news that Batman was responsible for Harvey Dent's death had gotten out. Joker must have stolen and fixed it up. Harley couldn't help but admire Joker's genius-what a great way to lure the Bat to them! With news that Barbra Gordon was missing, and now his own personal signal being used once again, Batman was sure to come. Harley felt a shiver-she'd only read the stories in the paper, and seen a little poor footage on TV. Very few people met Batman. And tonight, she might have to shoot him.