On the bustling Gotham main street, the traffic light quickly flicked to red but that did not stop Joker from smashing the pedal and racing through as two other cars spun out to avoid him. The glittering purple Lamborghini roared away into the night, into the fog, as if nothing had happened.

"I just don't understand why you have to be such a dick sometimes," Quinn huffed, folding her arms across her chest in the passenger seat, completely ignoring the traffic accident they had nearly caused moments ago, "You're so selfish."

The Joker rolled his eyes. His hand, gripped firmly around the ornate steering wheel, began to tap as his patience was wearing thin. He hated when she got like this. To him, it was far from funny. Another light turned red and this time he brought the car to a slow halt, mirroring his own attempt to breathe and slow down his mind. He closed his eyes in exasperation and leaned back into the driver's seat as Harley continued. He wished he could have melted into the seat if only to drown out her bitching.

"The plan was all laid out," she gestured, "you were going to tie that lawyer guy up and the two schmucks, have your fun, maybe torture them a bit or whatever, and I was going to get to bash 'em good and play baseball with their heads. But nooo, I get locked out and you invite, ha," she laughed, "Monster T of all people. Like who does that? You knew how much I was looking forward to that night!"

"You were thirty minutes late, and Mr. T wasn't." He emphasised and bared his metal grin at her, but there was no smile to be found.

"Whatever, I see how it's going to be. For the record, Mr. J," she cooed mockingly, "I was feeding the babies! Which, I never see you even pet them once in a while. They'd be corpses if it wasn't for me. So fuck that noise, thirty minutes my ass—"

Thud!

Joker slammed on the brakes, causing Harley to fly forward and hit her head on the dash. She raised her hand to a red spot on her forehead and narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend. She was not seriously injured, the skin was not broken, but Joker had made his point.

"Get out of my car before I break somethin' a yours," Joker said sternly, pointing his inked hand across her and out to the sidewalk. They stared at each other for a moment, matching the other's intensity.

"Fine," Harley whined with all the spite of a temperamental teenager. She stepped out of the low-riding car into the cold November air. Before she could slam the door, the Joker sped off into the parking garage around the corner. Harley rubbed her forehead again, and looked down the street to see if anyone had witnessed their squabble. If anyone had, they were doing a great job at hiding their presence. Walking up to the glass anterior of the building, Harley stopped short of the doors to look up at the LED cursive mocking her: GRIN AND BARE IT. She scoffed and pushed the heavy doors open, putting an extra swing in her step.

The Joker's mind was far away as he watched Harley from his booth. She was in The Cage tonight, and the way she grinded on the other dancer only ground his gears more. This time she made it extra intimate, glancing at the booth every so often to make sure Joker saw what he was missing. The poor dancer made eye contact with Joker a few times too, mentally pleading with the clown not to murder him later.

Not a chance, Joker thought to himself. He was going to use the Eviscerator, he decided. He did not notice when the bald man extended his hand to him, and eventually sat down. Somewhere in the corner of his vision, Frost walked up to the table to speak to the man. After a short pause, the bald man started talking to him. Something about congrats blah, blah, blah, and welcome back this and that.

Oh yes, I remember this joker. My new friend.

A sinister thought crossed Joker's mind and he gritted his teeth. Within seconds his whole demeanor changed and he smiled at the man known as Monster T.

"How do you like the place?" Joker questioned, offering a friendly grin. Mr. T removed his shades and scanned the room. Joker could only think, what an ugly brute. You cover your face with all that metal shit, and meaningless generic tattoos just to top it off. What a joke. With some mental gymnastics, the Joker was able to suspend the reality that his tattoos were not much better. Back to the question, Joker already knew his club was beautiful. Gold everything with classy diamond accents, dim lighting, and tasteful staff doing their jobs at one-hundred percent efficiency. Of course the dancers and his prized filly were expected to dress a bit more exhibitionary, but that was just part of the act. To solidify the message, Harley only worked in The Cage, a reinforced glass tube, and only with hand-picked backup dancers. The patrons could look at the merchandise all they wanted, but no one was ever allowed to touch her without express permission from her man. Joker glanced over at her again, final in his resolve that she would dance alone after tonight. His company's voice brought him back to the conversation at hand.

"It's a real nice place you got, best crib in the city from what I've heard. I really like what you've got goin' on in the middle here," he gestured lazily to Harley shaking her gold 20's style flapper, "but I think we should talk about the job, J."

Joker cocked his head slowly, trying to see into this man's mind. He came up empty.

"I'm talking money, J. When is this gonna pay off? You know the strings I had to pull to get that guy in our sights?" Monster T leaned in, lowering his voice, "you know he runs with the Waynes." Joker did not lean in.

"And? You think this is a cubicle farm where you clock in, bing, I write your check on Monday and you cash in on Tuesday? Ha!" Joker imitated straightening a tie with a pout, then laughed in the brute's face, covering Mr. T's mouth with the distorted smile on his hand. "I suggest you clock out if that's your impression. This company doesn't exactly run on the employee's schedule." Joker feigned a sympathetic grimace, like a manager explaining a company policy. "Oh but sir, I have bills to pay and a family to feed!" He continued, imitating for him, pushing his palm harder against the man's face. Mr. T tried to reel back, but Joker grabbed him around the head tightly and held him close from across the table. Somewhere in the background, Johnny Frost was watching their interaction very closely. "Well I'm so sorry good chap," Joker sat up straighter now, "I'm afraid you'll just have to wait. But tell you what, you stick around and I'll get you a nice spot on one of those poles," Joker motioned to the stainless steel bars that jutted from the ceiling, providing stages for five youthful women in lingerie. "You could probably bring in, oh," he looked him over quickly, "few hundred by the end of the night, assuming we have that kind of crowd tonight, if you know what I mean." He let the man go. Monster T sat all the way back in his side of the booth, visibly shaken. Joker winked at him and took a sip of his previously untouched whiskey. Trying to brush off the interaction, Monster T regained his composure and began to clarify. He swallowed.

"So," he splayed his hands out over the polished table, "the money is coming?"

"That depends on how many hours you want to work," Joker stirred the ice in his glass with a finger, "also depends on whether you prefer to wear a thong or not."

"On the job from last week, J. I ain't playing no games about this." Mr. T straightened his posture, some bravado returning. Joker was unimpressed and frowned at him. Some hilarious joke must have run through his head, because within a second the Joker began to laugh uncontrollably.

"Ugh, he's just so intense!" Joker paused to bark out at the man. He then laughed some more. Monster T looked over Joker's shoulder at Frost, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Frost's cold expression said nothing. T grabbed two shot glasses off a waitress's tray as she strode by, and downed one with a single motion. Realising he was going to have to relax and play by the Joker's rules, he turned his attention to the crowd again, admiring Harley at her work. Even with the time that had passed, Harley was still going hard, dancing with vigor as she sneered and winked at those outside her glass prison. The dancer that was with her before was now nowhere to be seen.

The music transitioned to something electric with a rapid drum beat, the bass emanating from boosters under the floor. The sound of gun shots fired from surround speakers in the walls. With a metallic tsk, The Cage began to ascend into a cavity in the ceiling, releasing Harley into the crowd to wreak havoc. Younger and adventurous club-goers flooded the dance floor, eager to play alongside the infamous Queen of Gotham. Older patrons turned to watch the scene, unable to ignore the magnetism of the phenomenon. Strobes in the ceiling lazily passed over the crowd, over the bar, into the booths, and back again. Neon violet and cyan spot lights contrasted with the sophisticated gold, black, and white scheme. To Mr. T, it brought a welcomed change of pace to the haunting jazz-bar atmosphere of earlier.

"You're a lucky man, J," Monster T began, still fixated on the woman, "gotta bad bitch." He nodded to himself as he looked her up and down, following her gold dress where it stopped just below her upper thigh. Her skin glimmered as light bounced off the diamond chandeliers, and for a moment he imagined her looking at him with those gorgeous baby-blues. The Joker never once looked in the direction of the crowd, but became transfixed on the man before him, like a predator in full hunting mode. His breathing increased in depth, and a deep growl spilled from somewhere in his lungs. The atmosphere had soured very quickly, but Mr. T was completely oblivious to the gravity of his comment. From afar, Frost inhaled deeply and clasped his hands in front of himself.

Fucking dumbass.

Joker's mind went empty, only filled with red, consuming rage.

"Well there she is now…" the Joker raised a shaky hand to point in Harley's direction. Monster T looked on still, not facing the clown. Angered further, Joker rose from his seat, smoothing his emerald hair, "She is the fire in my loins." He now stepped directly in front of Monster T and grabbed his attention with the fire building in his eyes, now wide and crazed. Confused, T leaned back to look up as the Joker who towered over him and began to pace around the booth. "The itch in my crotch!" Joker continued, balling his hands into tight fists as he exited the booth. He was getting himself more riled with each piece of exposition, and a deep sense of foreboding washed over Mr. T causing a shiver to move up his spine. Joker lowered himself to T's seated height, his gloved hands digging into the wood of the table, as he stared into the brute's eyes. Monster T inhaled and swallowed quickly, the whites of his eyes showing.

Gotcha.

Starting quiet and slowly, "the one, the only," Joker pulled back from the table, baring his teeth at his prey, "the infamous!" Joker turned sharply on his heel, addressing the whole section of the club behind him, gaining their undivided attention as conversations halted and whispering ensued, "Harley Quinn!"

In the center of the club, Harley was still dancing to the rabid beat of the music, unable to hear her boyfriend's introduction. Only when she noticed he was pointing at her did she stop to wink and blow a kiss in his direction. Joker beckoned her with a single finger, grinning as a horribly delightful thought pressed at his mind. Monster T desperately downed the other shot. The clown looked over his shoulder at T, baring a half-hearted smile.

"Oh have I got something for you, my friend. Consider it a signing bonus."

The overall mood had taken a turn, but people went back to their business and conversations returned as Harley strode over to the booth, running her hand along the back of the white leather couch before swinging her legs over.

"Ah, come to Daddy." Joker purred. He pushed the curtain of golden beads out of her face, beaming at his lovely partner.

"Puddin'," she squeaked, tilting her head cutely at him before smirking at his company, looking him up and down with hungry eyes. With a short lustful growl, Joker lightly grabbed her thigh and stroked her cheek. They exchanged a menacing glance, lost of all the spite from earlier. Harley caught on to his message and smirked, parting her lip with her pinky finger in understanding. Several rings on her fingers came into light. Around her thumb, the golden Wayne family crest sat proudly, obviously an expensive joke. A winding vine of diamonds and rubies kept her pointer finger perpetually extended. Finally, a simple red heart stacked on top of a black diamond adorned her pinky.

"Now, you are going to be my gift to this handsome Hunka Hunka!" He hooted at Monster T, releasing another wave of dread over the man who was now considering just where he went wrong in this series of events. Harley twirled her hair, looking between the two men's expressions: Joker a beacon of murderous joy and Monster T looking like he was ready to jump over the back of the couch and make a run for it.

"Uhh…," Monster T protested, but his hesitancy went unheard. The game was already set in motion.

"You belong to him now," Joker took Harley's hand and lifted her from the couch, letting her fall into Mr. T's lap. She immediately grabbed onto his neck and face, pressing her body up against him. Monster T wanted to resist, but Harley's eyes penetrated into his mind, keeping him frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"You want me?"

"Uh, I—"

"I'm all yours," Harley pressed her lips against his passionately, almost forcing him to open up to her. He had fallen into her web and became tied up in the illusion she was spinning him. With aggressive force, Harley pulled him even closer into the kiss, enjoying each agitated snarl it gained from the Joker who was standing to the side. As much as Monster T wanted to enjoy this, she was suffocating him and he had to regain a sense of where he was and what he was doing. He pushed Harley away from him, and looked up at the Joker who was stalking him with all the intensity of a demon. Monster T began, his heart rate increasing. The music seemed to be getting faster as well, adding to the adrenaline.

"This—this is your girl man. I can't—"

"You don't like me?" Harley accused him, pushing her hand against his chest to distance herself. Monster T could only look between the two of them in desperation as the situation was spiraling. "Fine then, don't waste my time," Harley stood from his lap, returning to her seat behind her boyfriend's ominous figure. As she passed him, she brushed her palm against his exposed chest; still as a sculpture, the Joker did not flinch beneath her soft touch. The bass continued to boom underfoot. T began to breathe faster, looking up at the Joker with wide eyes, pleading for mercy. Joker only lurked closer, his shoulders rounded as his icy blue eyes fixed with an all consuming intensity.

"Nah, that's your girl, J," Monster T said cooly and cautiously, his final attempt to try and regain some degree of control over the situation. On the inside, he was praying to anyone who would listen.

The Joker stayed mute but slowly kneeled down to the man, almost close enough to reach his neck if he wanted. Every inch of his body was tensed and ready to rip Monster T apart for his sins, and T could see this with shocking clarity. The whole room seemed to fall away and mesh together as the bass of the music was the only thing filling the haunting silence between them. Mr. T could nearly feel the hot breath of the madman on his face, not even noticing how close they were now. But it was the eyes of the beast that captivated him most, drawing him into an abyss so dark and depraved he swore he was in the presence of the Devil himself—the absence of mercy. A twisted smile crept across the Joker's face, pulling his ruby lips into a gruesome impersonation of happiness. His head cocked an inch before his hand cocked the pistol in his holster.

"That's right."

BANG!
BANG!

…

Light's out. Laughter ensued.

Somewhere in the back of the club a woman screamed, glasses shattered, and general panic unfolded after the first round of shots were fired. Monster T was a mere casualty, a drop of blood in the ocean. But knowing the Joker's penchant for bloodshed, it was that single drop that sparked the fear of a massacre, putting all the patrons in a frenzy. Some people rushed for the doors, trampling each other in the process. At the same time, the dancers calmly scattered to the backstage and long-time customers simply watched the commotion from the comfort of their seats, sipping on their drinks nonchalantly.

"Filthy casuals," a man seated at the bar observed, him and his friend both dressed in black-tie, watching a group fumbling to get through the emergency exit.

Drunk on the chaos, the King and Queen of Gotham fled the scene. Any calls made to the to the police went unanswered as soon as the club name was mentioned, and there would be no one to stop the couple in their getaway. In a manic state, Joker drove recklessly, looking in the mirrors to see if the police would dare try him. Her boyfriend's elation was infectious, and Harley was immediately filled with a joyous hunger to commit some more trouble. She rolled the window all the way down, breathing in the thick nighttime air and drumming on the side of the car to the beat of the radio. A semblance of comfort washed over her. She could not help but to smile.

Neon lights and vivid nightlife lit up the city, highlighting the eccentric characters who wandered the streets and walkways when the sun disappeared. Some people wore fur coats and gold jewelry, while others pushed stolen shopping carts through decaying alleyways. Every skyscraper with apartments or hotels was illuminated with people going about their lives behind closed doors. The sounds of car horns, club music, and street performers filled the air. It was times like this where Harley truly felt she was living her best life, and the world could not get any better than this moment. She looked over at the Joker, whose mission was to create as many near-misses as possible with other drivers and pedestrians. At one point they heard an abrupt scream and drove over something big enough to test the car's suspension. The two stopped to exchange a glance before breaking into genuine laughter. Life was good.

"So Mr. J, what do—"

A forceful thud came from behind them; an added weight could be felt on the car's rear. Harley peeked out from the open window before rolling it up quickly with a laugh.

"Guess who," Harley chuckled.

"I'd say we've got company," Joker hissed with a wicked smile. He rounded a corner, testing the masked vigilante's grip.

"It's like he just can't get enough of you," Harley declared, the subtle jealousy hidden beneath sarcasm.

"Yeah, he's almost as bad as you."

A long stretch of road came into view and Joker smashed the accelerator into the floor. The million dollar coupe roared as the speedometer approached 180mph. Harley reached for the ceiling handle as the force of inertia threw her back in the seat. With a snarl she patted her side where a pistol would be holstered, but felt nothing in its place. She realised she was still in her dress and not her typical crime attire. Reaching over her boyfriend, she pulled a pistol from the holster over his suspenders. The dark tool was not the familiar flashy white pistol she was used to: it was much heavier and lacked the rotating "love" and "hate" cylinder she loved so much. Thick scratches and scuffs covered the black metal from past interactions. Another thud hit, this time rocking the car and causing Harley to hit her head on the ceiling. It'll have to do, she thought.

"Stupid Bat," she pressed the barrel of gun to the roof of the car, firing several rounds into the ivory upholstery, "you're ruining date night!"

"Easy on the paint job, doll," Joker quipped, doing a sharp bootlegger turn at a wide intersection. Everyone and everything in the car was thrown to one side before adjusting as they sped back towards the lake shore. The black body of water was approaching at rapid speed, and panic set into Harley who realised where the Joker's plan - or lack of plan - was taking them.

"Uh, Puddin'..." Her voice shook with uncertainty. The whir of the engine only grew louder, drowning her out.

The guardrail became fully visible, reflecting the beam of the headlights. Several cars coming from the opposite direction applied their brakes as the glittering machine barreled past all of them. Joker's typically joyful laugh seemed menacing to Harley in this context as her panicked breathing turned into hyperventilation.

"Puddin, I can't swim—!"

The road and city lights fell away as the car broke clean through the guard rail and plunged into the black body of churning water. The impact shattered the windshield and sent Harley flying through the glass like a ragdoll. A brief and sudden regret crossed Harley's mind about not wearing a seat belt. In the disorder of the event, everything seemed to move slowly as though they had dove into a pool of molasses. She managed to get a glimpse of the seat next to where she had been, hoping to see a suit of white accompanying her in this pandemonium, but it was empty. He had abandoned her. She had no time to process this betrayal before her skull collided with the hood of the car, launching her into oblivion.

Some time passed, but there was no way of perceiving just how long she had been under the waves.

Cold…

Who are these faces I'm seeing…

Oh!

Oh, you're not him…

A fog swam through Harley's mind as she tried to discern The Bat's mask from the rest of the shadows. In some frenzied motion, she managed to pull a knife on him out of instinct, but inside she was scared and the water was pressing on her lungs, taking her in and out of consciousness. She was scared of what was to come next, scared this might be the end. This time the light faded slowly, pulling at the corners of her vision. Her lungs could not expand or deflate, and the agonising pressure of drowning was making her hysterical with a primal fear. Even though The Bat was here with her, now holding her confiscated blade, her final thought was the fear of dying alone. Another bout of unconsciousness was creeping in before a blunt force radiated through her skull, a bulky gloved fist aimed at her eyes.

First there was pain.

Then there wasn't.

Finally, a blurred image.

A memory, a good one.

Puddin'?