Joker&Harley Oneshots

Craving Attention.

Head tilted to one side, tongue just barely poking out of her mouth as she focused, the blonde made one last broad stroke of her paintbrush. There! Perfection! A garish, grinning face adorned the door of each shop on the street, all except one. Had to keep things entertaining, after all. None of them had been broken into, nothing damaged or stolen, no alarms set off, just the defacing graffiti grinning under the street lamps. After all, this little gesture wasn't about getting a pay day, it was about instilling fear, creating chaos... attracting his notice.

The Clown Prince of Crime may have set her adrift, again, but in her heart she just knew it was a test. He was testing her devotion, her love, her suitability to stand at his side. Well she would show him that she had what it takes. She'd show him just how devoted she was. After all, Harleen Quinzel had always tested well, and if she didn't, well... if you weren't cheating to win, you weren't trying hard enough.

Still, the little tableau was missing something, that one special ornament to really tie together the imagery. Looking around, Harls strutted over to stand at the centre of the cross-street, empty at this time of night. Rows of smiling faces on either side... just needed...

She gestured to the henchman she'd had accompany her tonight. He was a pleasant faced fella with a scorpion tattoo on his neck. She had all the men's files, downloaded from the computers at Blackgate after yet another sizable fee to Calculator, she was damn near financing that bugger's Cheetos habit single-handedly. This guy was apparently a serial killer with a preference for young blonde girls. She'd taken to calling him 'expendable' in her head, and now... now he'd been upgraded to 'useful'.

Harley gave him a bright smile, watching the play of his features beneath the clown makeup. Oh yeah, creepazoid was totally into her. Tsk tsk. She was clearly spoken for. He came up real close, drawn in by her big blue eyes and the flash of her pearly whites. "Well darlin', how'd you like ta do somethin' majah fah this li'l project I got goin' on here? A real /central/ role?"

The man grinned, his smile so different from Mister J's it made her want to puke. The jester leaned into him, ignoring the super creepy way he sniffed her hair as she did so. Batting her eyelashes up at his face, she flicked her wrist, causing him to stumble, a shocked look in his eyes. The henchman clasped at Harley's shoulders as she yanked the blade out from between his ribs, the thick black heart's blood pumping from the wound and splattering across the front of her outfit.

Giving the jerk her brightest smile yet, meeting the betrayal in his eyes with relish, she tossed her head like she was flipping her hair back. "Aw, ya din't really think ya could hold a candle ta my puddin', didja?"

Her high pitched giggle echoed in the empty street as she shoved him to the ground. While the man twitched his last few breathes, crimson puddling beneath him Harls bent forward and sliced the front of his shirt open, revealing his chest and the ragged wound, blood still bubbling up out of it slightly. The blonde straddled the dying man's waist, curiously watching the light fade from his eyes before setting to work on the last phase of her masterpiece.

In crude, crooked letters, digging deep enough that she kept nicking her blade on his ribs, she carved the words "FOR PUDDIN" into his chest. Grinning, she took the time to apply fresh lipstick, pressing a kiss to punctuate the message. Eventually, Mister J would notice her. Either that, or Gotham would run red as she eased her forsaken heart.