#please help me I’m being held at gunpoint to post him/j

[the-obsolete-homosexual]

my baby boy Puddlekins

[rocinantescoffeestop]

Whumptober2020: Day 3 – Held At Gunpoint

Fandom: Psych (2006) Characters: Juliet O’Hara, Sam (from Psych: The Movie) Ships: Shawn/Juliet (Shules) Universe: Prologue to Please Stay (so far away) (singleparent!AU)

TW: CHARACTER DEATH, Blood, Gunshots

[Read on AO3 here.]

Pier 39 during the day was a bustling scene of families hoping to score some candy. During the night, the feeling it possessed was that of a ghost town, boarded up shops and darkened strings of bulbs. Tonight, the ghostly surroundings served as the grounds of pursuit between two of SFPD’s finest and an alleged jewellery thief (alleged only in the sense that they had little evidence to go off of). Personally, Juliet’s instincts grew sharper with each passing second on the pier; innocent men simply didn’t run like that.

Two sets of sneakers thundered over the wooden planks, and Juliet had to muse again over the man’s stupidity. Running deeper along the pier? Despite its near-maze-like standard of pathways, it was still a dead end. Looking at the cop in her periphery, she could tell Sam echoed her sentiments by his body language alone. After years on the San Francisco force together, they – like any competent partnership – learned how to read each other. It served for better execution on the job. Trust was nothing to take lightly, something Sam understood just as much as she.

“This pier doesn’t lead to any docked boats, right?” she huffed coarsely to the side, without taking her eyes off the path ahead.

“Think so?” he replied. “Why?”

Juliet spared a subtle glance at him, about to follow through with her reasoning, when it dawned on him.

“You think?” he said.

“If this guy’s smart enough to pull off elaborate heists, why would he run into a known dead end?”

“Getaway plan,” summarised Sam. He hefted his gun a couple degrees higher.

A figure on one of the spanning bridges caught her eye. She noticed it raise a shadowy arm, and with gut-based recognition yelled,

“Split!”

Sam dove one way, Juliet the other, and between them speeding from a crack of gunfire whizzed a bullet.

Forcing herself back to her feet, Juliet scrambled around the left of a shacked up store front. She was vaguely aware of her partner running around the other side as her path lifted into a ramp. With the only sources of illumination being each cop’s torch and the waning gibbous in the sky, Juliet summoned all her previous years of sensory intuition as she advanced to the shooter’s position.

“Freeze!” a gruff voice commanded.

“I think you stole my line,” Juliet smirked, training her gun and torch in the direction of the voice. She caught a crisp, white button-up haphazardly tucked into khakis before trailing the beam of light to the man’s face. “Drop your weapon.”

“Or what?” the man taunted, but his efforts were undercut by the severe squint he was making. “You know I have a gun.”

“You’re outnumbered,” Juliet pointed out.

But the thief replied wordlessly by lifting his gun and training it her direction.

“Judging by where your holding your flashlight,” he mused, “your heart should be right…” The gun’s barrel bobbed some before settling in line with her sternum. “There?” It wasn’t entirely accurate of an estimate, but considering all angles, the damage could very much be fatal. Juliet’s heart leapt against her will. If this night had been planned for, she would be safe within a bulletproof vest. Except, she had been out shopping. There were paper bags, stuffed with carbs and fibre and vitamin C, in the backseat of her Volkswagen to prove it. She hadn’t thought she’d need a vest tonight, not when she’d promised her daughter a bedtime story.

In her periphery flashed the light from Sam’s torch. There was no way she could call out to him, but he was already following a flight of stairs to their position. All she had to do was stall for another minute at most.

“Okay, you got me,” she played. “I do have just one question, though: why’d you run up here? It’s pretty much a dead end.”

“Wrong turn?” he supplied. Juliet could hear the shrug in his voice.

“A guy who can plan three jewellery heists in a few months and escape with little evidence doesn’t really seem like the type of person who’d stick themselves in a corner this easily,” she mused. “Does he?”

“You’re right,” the thief said, “that kind of man wouldn’t.”

In the span of three seconds, from the height of success to the pit of dismay, her heart fell. A set up, she groaned internally.

“Where?” she barked.

“Like I’d tell you,” the decoy huffed.

“Put the gun down.”

“Ladies first.”

“Not a chance.”

“Hey!” called Sam, several paces from the scene but at least now on the same level. “Do what my partner says.”

Juliet’s grip on her gun eased somewhat with the presence of back up. Together, like they always did, they’d take down this disobedient facade and get to work tracking down the real criminals.

“Cooperate and we can cut a deal,” she offered but with an authoritative air.

Sam planted himself a couple paces behind the man, gun trained on his turned back. The thief spared only a tilt of his head in acknowledgement of the second detective’s presence. For someone caught in the crossfire, he emoted minimal stress. His hands barely trembled, not even the one threatening Juliet’s life.

“It’s not a bad deal, man,” Sam pressed.

The corona of Juliet’s torch beam caught his raised brow, and while she couldn’t signal anything back in fear of the middle man catching on, she trusted that their minds were working around the same concept.

“Sorry,” the decoy said, and Juliet just caught his finger squeeze the trigger.

Two gun shots coalesced into an earsplitting bang. The man’s knees thudded against the bridge planks, and his torso teetered before collapsing in Juliet’s direction. She tried to jump back in avoidance of his head, but her legs would not respond. Blood swelled over the once-pure white of his shirt.

A sharp burning dragged her gaze further down until her eyes rested on her grey sweater. A tuned gasp ripped from her throat.

Normally, seeing blood wasn’t an issue. In addition to her experience in the field, part of her time at the academy was in first aid. Yet seeing a stain of red spread across the fabric of her favourite shirt – so much so soon – made her sway where she stood.

Sam was immediately at her side, gun and torch dropped, gripping her shoulders. She sank to her knees anyway, guided safety by her partner’s strength.

A hand hovering over the wound, she muttered, “I think I need medical attention.”

“You think?” replied Sam with his signature dryness. “Hang in there, J, I’ll call. Hang on.”

There was scuffling against wood to be heard and soon the beginnings of a winded conversation, but Juliet barely paid attention to what was being said into the phone. She flattened a palm against her gut while feeling around the space with her other hand. Letting out a grunt, she heaved herself properly onto the floor and settled into a semi-comfortable sitting position, her back against one of the railing’s posts.

Each breath she attempted felt like a steamboat weighing on her lungs. Shallower breaths hurt less, so she opted for more of those to split the difference.

A warm presence crouched by her right again. A beam of light passed up and down her body before concentrating on the bloody mess beneath her fingers.

“Dammit, Juliet, why couldn’t you have gotten shot somewhere like your leg?” snarked Sam, voice shaking in either humour, dread, or both.

“I’ll try harder next time,” she chuckled back only to wince at her core’s movement.

“Help’s five minute’s away,” he informed. “We just gotta keep pressure on the wound until then.”

Juliet coughed before she could respond. She ended up just nodding instead of answering.

“Hang in there.”

“You said that already,” she pointed out, her voice growing raspy.

“I think it still applies here.”

Managing a hum and a little smile, Juliet shifted her fingers over the bullet hole. The pain was excruciating, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to make any sound above a grunt.

“How’s it feel?”

“Like a vacation,” she lied, although her sarcasm didn’t land as well as it usually did. Her brain was growing woozier with each second.

“That bad, huh,” he said, and within seconds she gave him the stickiest glare she could manage. “I know, dumb question, right?”

“S’okay.” She lifted her hand from the wound to grab at… something, anything. She was slipping away from the floor with every blink.

Her mind flew across town. She jerked forward, panic inciting another round of adrenaline. “Shawn… I need– I have to–!” She let out a shriek; the skin around her bullet hole tore with the strain.

“Whoa, Juliet! Stay– I call him, too! Just sit, okay?!” With the help of gravity and Sam’s guiding hands, she slipped backwards against the post. Her hand was pushed back down to her midriff and secured. The grip was comforting, but it felt wrong in too many ways for her to enjoy its little solace. She wanted Shawn’s hand.

“I’m... tired?”

She could barely hear her own voice.

“J, seriously needing you to hang on, right now! They should be here anytime.”

All Juliet could do was shake her head, yet events she did so, the sensation felt a million miles away. Someone else was shaking their head. Someone else was bleeding out on Pier 39. Meanwhile, she was fine, she was safe, she was wrapped up in a green snuggie and nestled in the arms of her lover. The torchlight was growing fainter, but her next breath came a little easier. Good night, she thought with a little smile, knowing that in the morning, she’d wake up to cuddles and sunshine.

Wouldn’t that be nice.

—

Written for @whumptober2020.

[theartistdetective]

The Joker x Harley Quinn - Mephisto: Part 10

Sorry for the delay! I’m posting this chapter that has between 4500-5000 words to make it up to you! A lot of things will be revealed in this chapter, so don’t miss it!

Warnings: VERY BRUTAL DEATHS, out of character Harley Quinn, domestic abuse, inappropriate language.

MASTERLIST

  The child’s curious and frightened gaze lingered on the two figures entering the vestibule. That was quite a rare sight, the “it” breaking his pattern. It was around noon, the sun shining the brightest, the street at it’s most crowded time, the time when the screams could be heard the clearest. The “it” was able to walk straight, his knees didn’t even shake. His sclera was perfectly white, no circles under eyes, hair combed nicely and clothes ironed.   The “it” seemed to had followed the tradition as well: everytime he broke the pattern, he brought a meek man home with him. The man always followed him like a lost puppy. Even though the meek man was taller than him, the sheepish manner of his made up the height difference. His hands were always clasped in front of his body and whenever he spoke to the “it” -if one could call those intermittent murmurs “speaking”- he bowed his head down. He always looked like he was on tenterhooks when he was with the scary man. But the child knew that it wasn’t “fright” he was feeling, he simply worshipped the disgusting monster.   The child watched in disgust as the monster walked towards mommy. He leaned in for a kiss, taking her lower lip between his teeth. After he broke the kiss, he slapped her behind; walking away from her. His gaze found the little one as his arrogant look was completed with a smirk which formed on his lips. He chuckled, seeing the disgusted look directed towards him:   “Hi honey, how are you?”   The child’s bruised eye started throbbing with pain. A hiss echoed in the vestibule, answering the monster. The “it” raised his eyebrows playfully, giggling: “Someone has woken up on the wrong side of the bed today.”   The bairn did not say anything, just continued to stare at him with so much hate that it could set his hair on fire and no one would notice.   The connection of their gaze was cut by a sharp sting of pain and a slapping sound.   The small figure fell on the floor, holding the hurt cheek with teary eyes. There, was standing the sheepish man, with a glare that would scare away any human being; even the brave little tiger. His hand was raised high, a vessel twitching on his forehead. “You little…”he hissed through his teeth. “No one can disrespect Boss like that.” He darted ahead and crouched, his hand grasped the child’s jaw like a claw, fingernails buried in the flesh. “You will answer him when he asks something.”

  Not a single sound escaped the little mouth.   The “it” giggled, darn this was getting rather fun!  “Answer him!” he roared, clenching his grip. “In a respectful manner!”   The child looked up at his face while smiling, having none of his tantrum: “Of course I will sir, sorry if I was unable to answer the great God of Panderism. I was having some troubles with my wounds, the ones he gave me last night. It’s understandable for you to not understand my problem; I’m only a child, see? I have no ability to be turned on by getting hurt as you do.” The child smirked and turned his head towards the monster: “Greetings to you too, the great God of Panderism; I am not fine, thank you. And greetings, his poor Doormat. How much of his cum did you swallow today?” the child giggled and before the meek man –A.K.A. the poor Doormat- could make a move, ran past him and flew through the front door. The Doormat was fuming, he would not let any bastard disrespect his Boss even if it cost his life. His hand reached to his belt and felt the cold surface of a pistol. He drew his gun out, aiming at the running bairn. The mom gasped in shock, seeing her child having a close brush with death. Without thinking, she jolted towards the gun, pushing it up as the Doormat pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed through the street as the bullet hit the lamp of the vestibule, scattering the glass shards around. The child stopped like a deer in the headlights. The Doormat roared in frustration and aimed the pistol at the poor woman’s head. The child screamed; afraid, for the first time in her life. The woman didn’t scream, didn’t cry, didn’t even tremble: she just stared at the man, determined, until the drama was interrupted by a slow and loud clapping sound echoing through the street. “Oh! Pure gold!” the “it” purred. “And here I was thinking you were all boring! I mean, you are, but my little birdie over there…” He pointed at the trembling child who was standing far away from them. “…made you all act a perfect show out for me.” He threw his head back and laughed: “Thanks birdie!” He turned his head towards his Doormat. “Now, now… calm down mate. My wife has seen too many to be afraid of a damn bullet.” He moved towards the man and snatched the gun away from his hand, emptying it’s shell. “And as for the little one, my dear birdie…” he mocked in a singing voice. “… lacks the discipline and fear only I can provide and I’ve just found the only thing that scares it.” He giggled as he glanced at his wife; before looking at the child, smirking. The child’s gulp was so audible that it could make the beautiful woman known as the “night” worry and stop wearing her beautiful gown for an eternity.

                                                               ***

  “Look after my granddaughter well Mr. J.”   The Joker’s mouth was hanging open in shock. Granddaughter? What in the world…   Johnny Frost was also in shock, but felt rather relaxed. So, it was not surprising that I wasn’t able to find her. It was not my fault… Phew!   Harry Cooper was still secretly laughing inside. Oh man, they have no idea! Nice work Harls…   Harley was completely not focused. Oh my God, oh my God! He likes my present and he is totally checking me out!   Edgar Beowulf was confused. Why is everyone acting so weird? Am I missing something?   The only one smart enough to do something in order to end the disturbing silence was Frost: “So, what would you like for a drink Ma’am?” he asked Harley.  “Thanks Frosty, I would like a Black Russian.”   Frost moved towards the entrance of the booth, telling her order to the goons standing behind the beads. The Joker took a sip of his Bourbon, eyeing the woman sitting in front of him:   “Great choice milady…”   The woman mumbled “Well, I’m known for making perfect choices…”.

  “Harleen Frances Quinzel.” She stated, using a clearer tone of her voice. “Call me Harley.” She continued with a mocking tone, extending her hand to him.   Frost was just about to warn her that his Boss didn’t shake hands when the Joker stood up from his seat. He walked towards the woman, facing her and went down on his knees as he took her hand in his. He kissed the back of her hand and singed: “The one and only King of Gotham at your service, milady: call me Mr. J…”   Johnny Frost stared at them, wide eyed and bewildered. Wow, he thought. He’s really going all the way. Don Juan on duty.   Severe Edgar cleared his throat, not pleased with his way of introducing himself. “Too much respect is labelled as flirting Mr. J.” he muttered through gritted teeth.   “No it isn’t.” snapped back Harley as the Joker proceeded to sit back on his seat. “Believe my sincerity, Edgar. I just wanted to be respectful to the person who had so much magnitude in your eyes.”   Oh aren’t you so sincerely lying… thought Harry.   “Well…” Harley interrupted them. “It’s about time you informed me about the business.”   “Mr. J was about to tell me the second case before you came. I will inform you about the first one later. Let’s listen what he has to say about this one first.”   Well shit, the Joker thought. “Actually I just realized that I don’t really need your help on that one. That case is closed. The payment that had been decided is still valid.”   Harley giggled, getting the point; but pretending to be completely oblivious. “Come on now, Mr. J, I’m curious. Please tell us. I promise I will personally handle it.”   “You handled it already girl, don’t you worry.” The King mumbled under his breath, the complaint inaudible to the rest as he shot a death glare to Harley. She did nothing but mischievously smile.   The Joker was saved from making up a case by a gun cartridge’s clicking sound. He tried to turn his head towards the sound but was greeted with a shiny end of a pistol, directed towards his brain. He looked at Frost for insurance out of the corner of his eye. However the henchman’s situation was no different, he was held at gunpoint as well, unable to move. He figured his other goons were in the same position as them. Severe Edgar was sitting in front of him held at gunpoint with his granddaughter and Harry, as well. The only difference was that they were too calm, too calm for even the Joker. They behaved like the twenty armed men filling the booth were just tiny grains of dust: Edgar proceeding to look at the Joker like he was still expecting him to tell the second case to him, Harley effortlessly taking a sip of her Black Russian, Harry still looking like he was laughing inwardly. It seemed the man pointing his gun to Edgar’s head felt as annoyed as the Joker at a certain point: “Mr. Beowulf, I’m honored to be able to end your misery after all this time.” He turned his head towards the Joker. “You surely are a fertile prey, rewarding us with the King of Gotham after all of our efforts.”   Severe Edgar didn’t move a single muscle to that. He just glared at the assassin and spoke: “Stupid.”   The hitman raised his voice, angry: “You are aware of the fact that I’m going to kill you, right? Are you senile?”   Everyone was waiting for the man’s answer in silence, when Harley’s high-pitched giggle pierced through it: “Well, well mister. Be careful, you’re walking on a minefield.”   “Shut up slut! Do you want me to shoot him?”   The Joker saw Edgar getting tense by the insult, but he recollected himself as Harley rubbed his arm gently, soothing him. When she started to speak again, there wasn’t a hint of playfulness in her voice. She hissed like a snake, which had found itself a brand new mouse to play.   “I dare you big boy, shoot him!”   “What?!” shouted the hitman.   “You heard me right! I wonder if you have balls big enough to take the most precious person I have away from me. Come on, do it!”   Oh no, the Joker thought. Reverse psychology won’t work in this situation. She’s going to get him killed! He quietly reached for his own pistol, but was stopped by Harley’s glare.   “You want me to do it little girl? You want him dead? I’m at your disposal!”   It was like the time had stopped the moment he pulled the trigger. The Joker’s eyes widened, Frost flinched and Edgar didn’t move a bit. He didn’t fall backwards. He just continued to sit there as the hitman continuously tried to get the gun to work in vain. The cartridge was empty; hell, he was sure he charged it before entering the club. Then why?..   Harley stood up, lifting the side of her skirt a bit; revealing a small pocket sewn on her stockings inside her thigh. He reached into the pocket and took out several magazine tubes. “Ten!” she yelled. Then she reached down to her Loubotin heels, removing them slightly to take out something she was stepping on. “Four!” she yelled again. Her hand reached inside the right side of her bra as she mumbled, “Three…”. Then she took out some more from the left cup and shouted, “Ah yes, twenty in total!” she dropped the twenty magazine tubes on the floor in the most dramatic way possible and grinned, pointing at the hitman.   “I’m not stupid enough to not to notice twenty men lurking around the club that definitely weren’t Mr. J’s henchmen! You were the one to dare to pull the trigger weren’t you? You were the one who dared to try to hurt grandpa…” The hitman didn’t back down, definitely not afraid of a fragile looking woman. Oh how foolish he was…   “Well let me tell you something Mister! THE BIGGER THE BALLS, THE EASIER TO AIM AT THEM!” she screamed frantically. Everything happened within a single second.   She jumped over the table as she drew a skewer out from her dress, throwing it towards the hitman. The man screamed in agony as the skewer’s sharp end pierced his balls. With that scream, the other nineteen men proceeded to attack her.   The joker and Johnny Frost were about to draw their guns out when they were stopped by Harry’s deep voice: “Please do not interrupt, our help will only be a nuisance for her.”   Harley was holding at least five skewers in her hand, seeming to hold something else in her mouth. She pierced one of the goons’ head as he was about to touch her. The sudden spurt of restricted the vision of the one near him and Harley took the opportunity to stab him by the throat. She used his body as a stepping stone –literally- and proceeded to jump on the other men, while he was still standing, from the top of his shoulders. She spit a needle from her mouth and blinded the man she landed on. One of the goons tried to hold her, grasping both of her arms from behind. But she, taking support from the wall in front of her; ran on it, turned a somersault and landed behind the goon, before she pierced his heart.   The Joker was sitting on the edge of his seat –literally-, definitely not able to take his eyes away from her. Edgar Beowulf noticed his look and grunted: “Let’s talk business, that’s her damn job. We all know who will win, come on now! Harleen, quit playing and finish them!”   Harley grunted in response, “You are no fun!” She kicked the guy she was playing with in the face and stabbed him by the gut.   The deaths which happened after that occurred in only one second. Without any warnings, she threw multiple skewers around. Lifeless bodies fell on the floor, soaking the purple carpet with fresh blood. All of them had a hole pierced on their skull right on their left eyes’. The woman who was said to stain the snow with blood approached to the now terrified man holding his bleeding crotch, singing an infamous melody that sent shivers down to everyone’s spines. (melody)   She placed the last little needle she had, right on top of his head; still singing. She didn’t seem to do anything but push it with a little force. A large amount of blood spurted from the little wound as any kind of expression on the hitman’s countenance was evanesced.   Then Harley clapped her hands and the club suddenly came alive. A lot of men and women entered the booth. Frost recognized some of them: they were the customers, some of them were the bartenders and hell, some of them even were members of the band that played live that day. They quickly carried the corpses away and removed the carpet, cleaning some places in the process.   “I’m going to get you another carpet.” Harley smirked, still covered in blood.   “That’s all alright…” groaned the Joker. “But tell me… Were any of my customers or employees not undercover tonight?”   “Nope.” Lady Snowblood giggled. “How would I be able to sort the hitmen out from them if they were real? I already knew all of your henchmen, very well.” She winked at Frost playfully.   Severe Edgar couldn’t hold himself back anymore: “Good Lord!” he shouted. “Am I the only one who wants to talk about business?”   Yes, the Joker thought.   “Btw…” the old man continued. “About the first matter with the assassins… I thought I heard you wrong but… What the hell is ‘a male copycat of Lady Snowblood’?” he pointed at the blood covered woman.   Harley choked on her drink: “Fuck… what?”. While still coughing like crazy, Harry ran towards her and started patting her back. He quickly pretended to look at his wristwatch and shouted: “OMG Sir, it’s nearly time for your pills!”   Harley played along and pretended to be angry: “Grandpa, what did I tell you? You must always take your pills with you!”   “But it’s early!”   “It is not apparently!” Harley yelled. “You will go home and I will have the deal with Mr. J. Will that be a problem for you Mister?”   The Joker was fast to agree. He needed some answers and there was no way he could get them with Severe Edgar standing right beside them: “Of course, there would be no problem.”   Without waiting for the old man’s approval, Harley jolted up from her seat and theoretically dragged the man off the booth; ordering some of the goons standing there to take him home.   After getting rid of her grandpa, Harley skipped towards her seat and sat on the leather couch before he threw her head back and sighed:  “Oh Harry we were just about to fuck up. Can’t believe he always falls for that.” “Hmph! I was about to fuck up, you never do.” Harry replied, complaining.   The Joker was both confused and angry at the same time: “Enough!” he yelled. 

 He stood up and walked towards the back of Harley’s couch. He approached to the blood covered woman from behind, leaning on her till their cheeks touched as he started massaging her shoulders. He slowly kissed her cheek and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent of cotton candy and blood. “To what do I owe my pleasure to, Lady Snowblood? After all you’ve done: killing my henchman, causing a ruckus in my club, putting my life at stake, stabbing me with a tranquilizer, lying to me, taking at least ninety percent of my time and leaving me in a black hole of rage and confusion? How dare can you show your face?” he drew his personalized pistol out and pointed it at the other side of her neck, hugging her tight with his other arm.   She reached out and grabbed his jaw, forcing him out from the comfortable place on her neck to a place millimeters away from her face; where their gaze could easily interlock. “I just believed that I owed you an explanation: I am aware of your little research about me. I just thought you’d be frustrated by knowing so little, missing all the good stuff. After all I’ve done: curing your traumas by erasing your bad memories from your mind, inspiring you to open a brand new club after me, offering you a game, breaking you out of an asylum, liking you, saving your life, becoming a psychiatrist for your sake, making you feel emotions, killing your rivals… How could I possibly face you?” she mocked.   The madman pressed the pistol to her neck harder, “I would’ve pulled the trigger, but I figured you emptied it’s shell already.”   Lady Snowblood laughed at that, “I do not lift any finger for unnecessary things Mistah J. There isn’t any kind of trigger in this world that you can pull, belonging to a gun directed towards me.”   Harry Cooper cleared his throat, “So, do you want to hear the explanation Sir?”   Frost wanted to shout “Damn yes he does!” but continued to stare at the void like a good henchman he was.   The Joker straightened up and proceeded to sit at his side of the couch. “Hit me.” He ordered.   “I, basically, became a psychiatrist in Arkham in order to prevent the assassination of you.”   “Thank you for that, don’t cut short, start from the beginning and tell me how did you become aware of this plan.”   “You’re welcome, my job is to know things just like grandpa. I’m afraid I don’t want to give you the answer of that question yet. I was aware, period.”   “Fine.” the Joker huffed, not wanting to push his luck.   “Five deadliest assassins: Chaos, Crimsoneye, Hundredface, Amisso and Black Widow were all gathered the day after your caption; to erase you from Gotham’s criminal underworld the easiest way possible by… the rest of Gotham.   The idea was brought up by Penguin, he contacted with those assassins and informed the other bosses. And I mean, every boss you can possibly think of. Two face, Bane… all of them. They all wanted to get rid of you, their rival, when you were at your most defenseless position: in the asylum, tied and nicely packed up for them. I killed two or three of Penguin’s henchmen as a warning. But Amanda Waller, a spy in high government, came out and joined the team; saying those were the work of a copycat of ‘the legendary Lady Snowblood’ and she had someone in Belle Reve that could be used as a secret weapon against her. She was just trying to join the team, honestly. Everyone thought that I was a male copycat as you did because they thought that the amount of power one needed to pierce a human skull was too much for a woman. What can I say, I am strong. So, they began by starting to test their capacity for a month, which was my expected time to become a psychiatrist before I began guarding you. But, some people just had to behave like jealous little bitches…” she hissed through gritted teeth. “So, I had to make a deal. I made them assign me straight to you in return of a two months delay for a practical test. But, I knew that I had to put a delay on those assassins’ plans as well. Otherwise, they’d kill you before I could even take a single step into the asylum. So, I gave Chaos a little clue for something which was worth a lot more than your head in his eyes. He took the team over and began using them to find the thing he was looking for, using my clue. I kept making them face with totally not suspicious clues over and over again; playing with them, until in two months, they so conveniently found out that the thing they were looking for was in Arkham all along!”   “Now, wait a minute!” the Joker snapped. “You’re saying you sent a little something to Chaos, a person that has nothing known about him? How can you possibly have done that? And what was the thing they’re looking for?”   “Oh Mistah J…” Harley moaned. “Just how many times do I have to tell you that my job is to know things and I won’t tell you how yet? Remember: even the most poisonous snake on the planet is at the mercy of an eagle flying towards it. Just think of me as the eagle.”   “Now, where were we? Oh yes, while they were looking for that thing; I continued to protect you and quickened my slaughtering. And the henchman of yours whom I’ve killed was a damn snitch! That’s why I killed him.”   “Ok,” the Joker interrupted her. “They might’ve thought that you were too strong to be a woman. But, Panda heard a man talking to Walter and the person in the fleeing car was a man. That’s why we thought that melody was played on device.”   Harry Cooper suddenly started laughing again: “Well, that’s on me.” He turned towards the entrance and shouted: “Panda, come over here!”   A man in a panda costume walked in and nodded, greeting the visitors. Harry continued speaking: “Do you recognize my voice? A small hint: it must make you remember the night of Walter’s death.”   Panda stopped in his tracks, shouting: “Boss, he sounds like the one!”   “Yeah we know,” grunted the madman, as the Frost escorted the rambling man out.   “Well, long story short…” Harry continued. “Being the only one to know about her plans, I drove the girl who was crazy in love around town while she killed your enemies. I know she is practically a death machine, but there’s no way I’m letting her insane ass linger through the streets of Gotham alone, for everyone’s safety. She can do anything when she’s left alone. The last time I did that she went on and fell in love with you and I’m not making the same mistake again!”   “Aw man, I feel you…” Frost sighed without realizing what he had just said. He was awarded with a death glare shot at him. He smiled apologetically at his boss.   “I shall continue now that you know there wasn’t any copycat in the first place…” Harley continued. “The day I broke you out, I faced with four of them.”   “Four?”   “Yes, Chaos was giving them orders through their earpieces. They invaded the asylum, suspicious of the fact that the corridors were completely empty; but they thought they were the strongest and the deadliest that humankind has ever known, so they continued. When they arrived at the room you unsuccessfully tried to torture me in; they saw me standing, along with your unconscious bodies: someone who’s the strongest and unbeatable but was known to be inexistent; in other words, a made up legend. It’s a waste really, if you removed my labcoat you could’ve seen my bare back before anything happened that day. Just like they did, after they heard the melody which was known to be the messenger of misfortune. They didn’t last long, I didn’t have the time to play at my heart’s content. Cops would had been there about five minutes. I hid their bodies with my henchmen and sent you home.”   “You killed them?!” the madman shouted frantically.   “Of course I did, the only ones alive in the team are the Chaos and Amanda Waller. So, our business consists dealing with them; seeming that Amanda wants your head while the Chaos wants mine. My grandpa mustn’t hear any of this. We must deal with this in secret.”   “Fair enough.” The Joker nodded. “But I must ask you, why did you bother saving me; even if you somehow learned that I would be killed, it’s stupid. I could’ve killed you, yet you just continued to mock me. There was no need for us to have this game.”   “Oh really Mistah J? I was aiming for you to take an interest in me, a slight interest that would restrain you from killing me. I never wanted you to fall in love with me.” She continued talking without giving the madman a chance to deny it. “It’s clear as day and I possess the ability of knowing everything so shut up. And as for why I did save you, the reason is that I have some beef with the person known as Chaos; that’s all I’m allowed to say.”

 “Well then, laterz, my men will contact you.” she stood up, taking her bag. “Glad you liked the present but I’m afraid I must end this personal game between us.”   The King of Gotham couldn’t believe his ears. He jolted up from his seat, eyes wide: “What the hell are you talking about?” “It was good while it lasted without my grandpa involved. But I’m just bored honey, I won’t be playing this stupid game anymore.”

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 How was it? Please tell me if you want to be tagged. What is going on with Harley, wasn’t she in love with him? What is the beef she has with the Chaos and who is the Chaos?

[lavender-tinted-glasses]

he's so little guy

my baby boy Puddlekins