Joker selected a good-quality lock pick and pulled out an electronic device which would be used to jam the security alarm. He inserted the pick in the lock and pressed his ear against the cool metal. He wiggled it gently until he heard the click. Everything was going pretty smoothly. The door opened and he ran inside. The alarm panel was right on the wall behind the glass cases. He slid over the glass and ripped open the panel. 3-2-1...just in time he connected the two wires. Silence. He took a deep breath. No alarm. That was a good sign too. "Harley, get the empty bags," he said quietly commanding. He didn't even look at her. They still had to crack the safe. He rummaged through his handy bag. There we go. Electronic safes were pathetically easy to crack. He perfered the old-fashioned ones. They were more of a challenge.
She did as she was told, bringing the empty bags forward, not saying a word. Harley was much too frightened to say anything. Her voice would come out as a pathetic little squeak. Every few seconds a horrible scenario raced through her mind, each one getting worse. They could get sent to jail! Or one of them could get shot! It took her a few moments to convince her mind that she should trust the Joker more. He had gotten away with hundreds of robberies.
The Joker broke the flimsy lock leading into the back office. They had very pathetic security at this place. He walked over to the huge safe fit into the walk and smiled. Beautiful. The glossy black exterior held a nice little electronic keypad that could be opened with an encryption code. He carefully placed a decrypter on top of the lock. Wait a few seconds. Voilá! The safe door swung open. "Harley? I need a bag," he was grinning like a maniac. All the pretty little jewels. This would be a nice haul. "Take them all sweet. I need to do a little decorating," he sauntered over to her and kissed her cheek before grabbing the last bag.
A goofy little grin spread across her face despite her raging mind. With a little skip in her step, she went over to the jewel cases. Oh how lovely they were! She carefully picked them up as fast as she could, making sure they were all in their boxes. Damaged jewelry wouldn't sell for nearly as much!
The spray paint was first. Green and purple of course. The best colors in the world. Joker sprayed the cases, the floor, the walls, and even the door. It was graffiti art inside instead of outside! He left plenty of nice messages for Batty to see. "Batmat, you stink!" "Batty, fatty, catty." He was so clever. The Joker truly was a mastermind. The best. He got out the permanent glue in the spray bottle and started going over the ceiling. The gigantic poster of himself would be the finally touch. The confetti still had to be done too. Confetti and graffiti! His laughter spilled out uncontrollably bringing tears to his eyes. Insanity was so kind to him.
The smile on her lips broke out into a dazzlingly bright one as she heard his laughter. It made her feel invincible! She picked up the pace a bit, wanting to take everything this place had. It would be so much more funny if they were wiped clean! She breathed in the smell of spray paint and laughed. Her laugh sounded like bells.
He had just finished putting up the poster when she walked into the room. Her bags full and bursting. She looked gorgeous. Harley's blue eyes never failed to make his heart pound a bit harder in his chest. She was definitely a woman that drove him mad. She looked seductive in her red and black costume. Happy. Harley Quinn finally was happy. He grinned. It must be his new life's goal to make her happy. She was beautiful when she was happy. Dangerously so. He jumped down from the counter. "Here you go kitten," he handed her a can of confetti.The last piece of the puzzle.
Harley laughed even more as she pulled the little metal tab on the container. Before it had a chance to burst properly she threw it into the air. With her eyes upturned, she saw the mock bomb burst into a rainbow of color. Confetti rained down on them, dusting her eyelashes. She looked back at her Puddin' and smiled as wide as she could. If only there was a way to tell him she had never felt so alive! She was about to try when bright blue lights flashed through the window. "Oh, shit! The police!"
The Joker cursed under his breath.They were running a bit behind schedule. He grabbed the bags and started running toward the van. He threw them in the back just as the police car was stopping. He reached for the M4 assault rifle and pushed off the safety. Everything seemed to be in a red haze. Slow motion and grainy like an old movie. He used the van as a shield and peaked out. The police were already moving toward the shop. His heart stopped. No. No. It couldn't be. Harley was standing there in the middle of the store, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. She should have been right behind him. Fuck. Why couldn't she be smart enough to listen to his wise words? Oh well, the more murder the merrier. He stepped out from behind the van and lifted the rifle. Aim. Fire. The sound of bullet casings hitting the ground always gave him such a high. It was like heaven. So quick and an efficient. He laughed. Bang!
The sound of gunshots snapped Harley out of her reverie. She screamed a little high-pitched scream before grabbing the last bags and running for it. Her heart hammered in her throat. She threw the bags into the van, looking up at the Joker. Fear was pulsing through her veins, slowing down her mind. Not far behind it, though, was adrenaline.
Joker calmly pushed the safety on the rifle and put it in the back of the van. Slammed the doors and got in the driver's seat in no hurry. Everything seem to be in technicolor now. Brighter and more perfect. He jammed his foot on the gas pedal and headed back toward Gotham's industrial section. His hands were shaking violently on the wheel. It was like he had just gotten a shot of heroin and enjoying the rush. He loved death. It was the ultimate end. The ultimate control of life. Such power. He spoke softly, "Don't get blood on the carpet, Harley." He was so furious it was pure glory. His emotions were running wild like beast through his head. He was so happy a few seconds and now livid. They must be going over 120 mph by now. Why wouldn't the car go faster? He hit his hand on the wheel violently. "Faster. Faster. Faster," his voice was rising.
Harley made sure not to get blood on the carpet. He was angry. Like he had been a bit earlier. It scared her more than the gunshot. Being shot would be quick. She had the sinking suspicion that the Joker wouldn't find it fun to end a life quickly. There was no mercy in his book. As the world speed by them, she cowered in the passenger seat, remaining completely still and silent.
He cursed when the engine sputtered than slammed on the brakes. The van came tearing to a stop; the wheels screeching against the road. He turned down a side road that led to the back of the factory. They were going to take a shortcut. His foot pressed the gas pedal to the floor again. He could barely see he was so angry. Everything was messed up. Why hadn't it gone perfect? It should have gone perfect. He clutched the steering wheel, digging his fingers into the fabric. It was too hot in here. He was burning up. Suddenly, he saw the entrance. He jammed his foot on the brake just before crashing into the fence. He turned the fucking, slow engine off and opened the door so hard it broke the hinges. He was pissed. He opened the back of the van and picked up all the bags he could as once. His muscles working to carry the weight.
Her whole body shivered as she watched him, still strapped into her seat. She felt the back of her eyes burn, but she blinked away the tears. Tears only led to pain. Harley took a shuddering breath before slipping out of her seat. Her body felt limp and worn, her bones more like jello than anything else. She grabbed the last two bags in the back of the van and hauled them into the abandoned factory. It was so cold.
It was like hell it was so fucking hot. He tried to take off his shirt fumbling with the buttons. His hands were still shaking uncontrollably. He got even more frustrated, everything seemed to be boiling over. He ripped the fabric enough to pull over his head. The cool air didn't seem to do much for him. He was burning. He walked to the van to get the last few bags but they were all gone. His M4 lay innocently on the floor. He smiled and reached out. The metal was the only thing that felt cool. It fit so nicely in his hand. "HARLEY!" he yelled hoarsely as he walked back inside. He started to laugh. It was all so clear now. No safety on. Life was never meant to be safe.
Harley turned towards him, eyes wide as a deer's. "Yes, sir?" Her voice was quiet and small. She glanced from his face to the gun in his hands. Oh no. Oh, God, no. Her legs threatened to buckle under her weight.
She was so pretty...what a pity. He grinned at her obvious fear. He was already starting to feel better. "Harley. What did you do wrong?" He asked smiling. Excitement ran through his veins making him stronger. Adrenaline made his blood rush faster. His vision was still red-tinged. Delightful. His hands were shaking harder now.
Her breath caught in her throat the first time she tried to speak. Then, the words came rushing out, all jumbled together, "I didn't run. I just stood there." She couldn't look at him, her eyes glued to the floor. If she was going to die, she didn't want to see it coming. It would be quicker without the anticipation.
"CORRECT!" he screamed, his laugh filling the whole building. He clutched his side with his free arm. Finally, he was able to stop. His eyes were bright with tears. He shook his head, "Harley. Do you know what happens when you do something wroooooong?" He spoke the words like a teacher would to a disobedient pupil. Tsk tsk. He held the gun up. His murky red eyes never left her face. The hunter never stopped watching his prey.
She flinched with each word he said. Slowly, she lifted her head, forcing herself to lock eyes with him. Tears slipped past her eyelids against her will. "I get punished..." Her mind was swimming. Would she die now? At least she had lived once. She had felt free for once.
He smiled, "So smart." He stepped back a few steps. His eyes still locked on hers. His mind racing with possibilities, ideas, scenarios. He put his hand over his heart theatrically as if it pained him. "Harley. Did you want the police to get you? You wanted to leave me. I know you do. But, you can't leave me, Harley. You can't." She belonged to him. Heart and soul. He was already starting to hear screams.
The words tumbled out before she could stop them, each hitting the air like a stone. "I would never leave!" This was her new life. How could she leave? Even if she wanted to, her only other option at this point would be to return to Arkham. Except, this time, she would be on the other side of the Plexiglas.
His mind was working too fast. Too many thoughts were jumbled and mixed together. His eyes narrowed. "Don't lie, Harley. It's not becoming," he said flatly. She ruined the perfection. A masterpiece had to be perfect. He laughed. Everything was so wrong. His mood suddenly shifted back to serious. "Are you going to psychoanalyze me now? Old habits die hard don't they?"
Harley's breath caught in her throat. How was it that he knew everything? How could he tell what her every thought was? If he wasn't...well, he would have made a great psychologist. She looked him in the eye and choked out, "If you're going to shoot me, just do it..." It was horrible being held in this odd sort of limbo. A line from an old sermon from the colonial years could describe this situation. It had something to do with a spider being dangled over a fire pit.
"If you were dead, you wouldn't learn anything," he shook his head as if dismissing the idea. He already had a plan. "You have 15 seconds. Run. Run fast," he said softly. He would give her a headstart. It was only fair.
She ran as soon as he had finished his sentence. Where would she run? Well, she didn't really know. Her feet flew her through the deeper, darker parts of the warehouse. The rooms got darker, dustier, and more frightening the deeper she went. As she lifted her stinging eyes from the floor she saw an old, faintly illuminated exit sign. She ran at the door, throwing her small body against it. The hinges were so rusted that it didn't budge.
The Joker counted in his head. 10-9-8... he dropped the gun on the floor. The huge clatter echoed through the empty building. It was like a game of hide and seek. 3-2-1... "READY OR NOT HERE I COME!" He screamed and started running. He had this sixth sense. He seemed to know exactly where she was. He could almost smell her. He was stronger and faster when he was hunting.
A small sob broke through her lips as she threw herself against the door again. It still wouldn't budge. She could feel the dark bruises already forming on her shoulder and hip. After a few more vain attempts, she put her back to the door and slid down the cool metal surface. She pulled her legs up to her chest and cried. There was nothing left to do. She was trapped. She was going to die. What made the situation even more haunting was the fact that it was her very own fault. She ruined it. It was all her fault.
He jumped down the stairs like a maniac. He could hear a slight noise. It was dark the further he went down. Perfect. Finally, he reached the room she was in. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. She was going to ruin him if he let this continue. He suddenly hit her across the face. The back of his fist connected solidly with her skin. He sighed. He felt so much better now.
She couldn't help the fact that she made a pathetic little noise when he hit her. Her vision swam, little stars and black holes gouging out gaps of her eyesight. Tears sprung freely from her eyes as her head flew backward into the door. There was a resounding thud. Her skull felt like it would split open. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, drawing blood.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. He backed her into a wall and put both hands on her face holding her still. His voice was quiet and dangerous, "Don't dissappoint me again." A threat from the Joker should definitely never be taken lightly. He released her and walked back up the stairs. The sun was just coming up. The dawn of a new day. He left the old factory to go to someplace darker. He needed to sleep. He had a killer headache.
She stood there, shivering against the cool metal. Her skin was covered in goosebumps. Her eyes felt like sandpaper. Harley slid back down to the ground and whimpered, "My fault. It was my fault..." It was. She should have moved! They both could have gotten in big trouble! They could be dead.