Harley turned on the news and walked back to her bedroom. She wanted to listen to the coverage on Dr. Leeland's murder while she tried on her new Harley Quinn costumes. She had spent the entire day shopping before stopping by her boss's apartment for a "visit".
She dumped a plastic bag of clothing on to her bed. Corsets, tights, boots, all of it her signature colors; black and red. She tried on a corset top covered in a black and red diamond pattern. It looked perfect, the corset fit just right hugging her narrow waist. This one was her favorite, she hoped Mr. J liked it too. Harley added a leather moto jacket to the outfit.
"Perfect," she thought.
Just then she heard the name Joan on the news, she rushed into the living room to hear it better.
"Dr. Leeland, the head psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum was found dead in her apartment last night. Her neighbor, Bill Palmer, had heard a gun shot coming from her apartment and went to check on the doctor immediately," reported a female newscaster, the screen began showing an interview with Dr. Leeland's "hero" of a neighbor.
Harley rolled her eyes as she watched the middle aged man on the television screen. She had shot the doctor and casually walked out of the apartment. He obviously had not made sure Leeland was okay long after the fact, he had not left his own apartment until he felt safe.
"Pathetic," Harley Quinn scoffed at the man.
He spoke as if he practically rescued Dr. Leeland. As if he burst into the apartment just after the murderer made a mysterious escape and then gave Joan CPR but failed as she died in his arms.
After his brief interview the anchor women appeared once again on the screen.
"It is unclear who killed the doctor or why. It as been said that she and her husband were in the process of getting a divorce. But nothing is confirmed. Police are currently at the scene of Dr. Joan Leeland's death checking for fingerprints or any DNA that might tell us who committed this crime against one of Gotham's respected citizens,"
Harley froze, she could not remember if she had worn gloves that night or not. She panicked, what if she forgot? She began pacing attempting to retrace her steps and recall what she had done before she shot Leeland. Her heartbeat quickened, she just could not remember. Her second murder, her first one alone and she had to go and mess it up. Even if she had remembered to wear gloves they could still find a strand of hair, then it would be all down hill from there. Jail was no longer a big threat to Harley Quinn. But death was. Besides that she could not bare the thought of separation from Mr. J. The woman on the TV continued to speak about the murder.
"Her nose is totally fake, her boobs are to," Harley thought frustrated, her mind racing, she had an uncontrolable urge to find the anchor woman and blow her away.
She pressed power on the television set and sat down in the center of the living room floor. She got an idea.
"I'll call Mistah J," she said to herself, "He'll know what to do,"
She stood up and raced around her small apartment in search of her cell phone. She dug through her purse feeling around for the phone. Then it occurred to her, he had told her not to call him. She groaned making this realization just as she found her misplaced phone. Maybe she could just go see him. Mr. J never said she could not come and visit him. She ran out of her room towards the door. Then she realized she had absolutely no idea where her boyfriend lived. That and she was not wearing any pants.
Harley threw herself face down on her couch. She grabbed a near by pillow to scream into.
"What's wrong with you Harley?" she asked herself after letting several high pitched screams into the soft fabric of the pillow, "Things were goin' great, just perfectly. Ya had no boss, Mr. J, complete freedom to do whateva ya wanted and ya had to go and mess things up,"
She shook her head and drug herself slowly back to her bedroom. Harley picked up the cell phone she had dropped when she sprinted to the door. She stared at it, she would just have to wait until he called her.
It was nearly eleven o clock at Joker's hide out. All of his henchmen were still asleep, exuasted from their late night jobs. Their boss however, could not sleep at this moment, even if he tried. The clown couldn't not possibly rest, he had way to much to accomplish. He had spent the whole night wide awake, making bombs and doing some major brain storming.
He had an idea for an aerosol poison which would cause spasms of laughter to it's victim. The laughter would eventually lead to a slow painful death for the unlucky individual forced to breathe in this toxin. Though he was not sure just how to make the connection with laughter and death. He jotted the ideas down on a note pad, surrounded by doodles of the Batman. He was beginning to miss the bat. He hadn't seen him since he was put in Arkham last. That was well over a week ago. The situation frustrated Joker. It was the police's fault he never saw the caped crusader anymore. They had him on the run. But Batman was no criminal, he shouldn't be treated like one. It was almost insulting to him being a criminal himself. The vigilante had not killed those people, no way. He had proved that to Joker when he tossed him off the side of a building only to catch him and pull him back up. If he didn't the guts to end the Joker's life he certainly would not end the lives of any one else.
It was daylight outside, that meant absolutly no chance of a bat sighting anyway. For now Joker was quickly becoming bored.
He flipped through his notebook, he knew he had written a "to do" list somewhere inside it. If it could be called that. Eventually he found his list, it wasn't in any particular order. Just a few notes, things he should do, ideas or people he could kill.
"Ah ha," he began reading over the page scribbled hastily with black ink. One spot in particular caught his eye, Joe DiMarco: new mob boss, doesn't like me, plans on taking me out and regaining Gotham's underworld HA HA HA HA. The HA HAs scribbled all over the page in bold red ink. Mocking the new mob boss's ignorance, obviously the man did not know him very well.
The Joker suddenly knew what to do today. He hurried out the door to gather his "troops" and begin their search for Mr. DiMarco.
I know, I make you wait and then come out with a kinda shitty chapter, very sorry. It's very short. And I proof read instead of my sister, so there may be some mistakes. I'm currently working on some fics with Sweet Coldkiss on a separate account. (Sweet Coldshallots if you're interested) So it made me a little late. Don't worry though, I still intend to finish this one. I'm just working on more than one at the moment.
Okay the thought of a Joker to do list cracks me up. It'd be like death, explsion, death, death, death, scar story, death, death, take a break, death, death, explosion, death. But I guess he doesn't really plan things. Oh well it's in there.
In case you've never watched any of the Batman cartoons or read the comics, the poison Joker is brain storming about is Joker Venom. I am not sure whether he'll eventually make some or not. I just wanted to make a reference about it. It's fun stuff ya know, I mean you die laughing and smiling. Anyway...
I am assuming Sal Maroni died when Two-Face shot his driver and the car flipped and everything. And Joe DiMarco isn't a real batman mobster, I couldn't think of one that really fit the part in this fic so I made my own. The name came from a mafia name generator.