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I dunno about ‘genius,’ but I do got a PhD.
Star / Kory
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Post by Harleen Quinzel on Jan 23, 2021 7:31:23 GMT -5
If Harley had been angry at the Joker’s appearance and interference with her heist, she was absolutely incensed, nay enraged that a third-party had entered the fray. Before she’d been totally blinded by their hastily deployed smoke screen, she’d caught sight of a handful of the agents the Clown Prince of Crime had mentioned – men and women dressed in black fatigues and body armour, similar in style to the attire worn by the GCPD S.W.A.T teams. Their entrance had already proven them more proficient, though. Quinn couldn’t recount a time any of Gotham’s police force had managed to get the drop on her – though her memory was, at best, selective.
Not that their proficiency mattered – they’d further infuriated the already peeved harlequin, and that didn’t bode well for anyone, clowns in purple suits included.
Looking about herself, eyes darting to the left and right comically as if they could make out anything through the smog, she grinned and hurled herself into a wild, diving handspring, not quite knowing her eventual destination. A cartwheel followed, as bullets peppered the area she’d been but moments before. And thus she continued, tumbling in random directions, making herself a near impossible target for the gunman, waiting for the smoke to dissipate, blind luck preventing her from colliding with something.
Until it didn’t, and she crashed rather unceremoniously into one of the white, plastic display podiums, upending it and the flexi-glass case atop it. The casing fell to the floor and shattered, and whatever had been stored within bounced across the ground, skittering across the hard surface.
"Quick bursts, don't damage the asset! Take out the distractions and let's grab what we came for."
The two barked orders from somewhere within the fog gave Harleen an idea – one of devilish genius. Her eyes narrowed and her former grin returned, only wider than before. Leaping to her feet rather acrobatically, she fumbled around until she found another display case, and rested her gloved hands upon it. Then, with a loud cough, she cleared her throat and prepared to address all those present.
“Another move and the case gets it! And if you keep movin’, ALL the cases are gonna get it!” To ensure they understood Harleen’s threat, she added. “We wouldn’t want anythin’ inside t’ get damaged too bad now, would we?!” A rapid burst of gunfire was the initial response, one of the projectiles narrowly missing her head, instead blowing the other pom-pom off her jester hat.
Harley blinked, reached up and felt for the soft white orb, and upon feeling only costume fabric, let out a shrill shriek. As she did so, a whirling dervish spun into action, and the smoke began to dissipate, revealing the silhouette of what looked to be The Joker, spinning round and round on the spot with her mallet.
“That’s IT! Batter up, Puddin'!”
Hefting the case up into her arms, she too spun on the spot (twice, so as to build momentum), before launching the glass container at her former beau.
The Joker
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Post by The Joker on Feb 9, 2021 21:29:45 GMT -5
Glass exploded and rained down everywhere, whatever was inside the casing shattered upon impact. Curses and instructions to hold fire flew from the lips of the commanding officer of the mercenaries mixed in with the screeching laughter that vaulted from Joker's stained lips. The Joker had already promised himself this was going to be a fun visit, what with him harassing and breaking the newly independent Harley, but it seemed he was in for more entertainment than he'd initially bargained. He and Harley's spat wasn't altogether resolved and done with but it could be tabled for the time being while the invading NPCs were dealt with.
What the militia was after was anyone's guess, they were in S.T.A.R. Labs after all, a place commonly targeted by ne'er do wells for its technological developments. You'd really think such a place would have much better security.
Smashing one of the cases that housed some (undoubtedly) expensive technologically advanced trinket was an exceptional play on Harley's part, not that Joker would tell her that without it being some sort of backhanded (sometimes literally so) compliment. It bought them a little time, made them just a little less vulnerable to the thugs with guns, but it couldn't protect the Clown Duo forever. Joker sauntered his way over to Harley, his white face still streaked with his own blood. As he went he motioned threats of bashing more cases, just to make sure the armed group was really paying attention.
"Ah, how this brings back memories."
Standing next to Harley Quinn, Joker tossed her a shifty side-eye and bumped her roughly with his hip. "Do the thing!"
She was the acrobatic, kicking, karate lady! Joker just hatched schemes and melted people's faces off with acid - classic, world's greatest villain stuff, but he wasn't the fighter. Joker was the brains, the beauty, the influence, the money man. Harley dealt with all the physical labor. Harleen Quinzel
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33Likes
41Posts
I dunno about ‘genius,’ but I do got a PhD.
Star / Kory
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Post by Harleen Quinzel on Feb 27, 2021 8:40:01 GMT -5
As the hurled flexi-glass case shattered, met with the force of the Joker-swung mallet, Harley darted to the next display column, placing her gloved hands on another possible projectile. She smiled deviously as cries went up from the well-armed mercenaries, calls for their comrades to hold their fire. Her plan had worked – they didn’t want to risk whatever they were there to collect getting damaged, even if it meant letting a pair of Clowns get the upper hand on them in their brief skirmish. “What’s wrong?” Harley crooned, flopping melodramatically against the case her hands rested atop, lips puckered in a mocking, petulant pout. “Don’t you wanna play guns no more?” She batted her eyelashes innocently, as if she'd had nothing to do with their cease-fire.
She couldn’t see their face through the smoke, nor beneath their masks, but it didn’t require much of her immense imagination to picture their scowls.
Coming to a skidding stop, Joker looked at the scene about him, then casually sauntered over to Harleen, occasionally wobbling display cases violently, or pushing them to the edge of their plinths, visual cues to remind the invading mercenaries what would happen if they continued their assault. Finally, he came to a stop at the jester’s side. 'Ah, how this brings back memories.' Harley rolled her eyes, and with it, her entire head. “Yeah, ones of me doin’ all the work while y-"
Before she could finish, the Clown Prince of Crime cast her a side-long look, and nudge her hard with his hip, nearly causing her – and indeed the display case she rested against - to overbalance. As she desperately tried to keep herself upright, teetering on one foot, the container rocked, see-sawing back and forth. For a long moment, it looked as if both jester and case would fall, but sticking out her arms at odd angles, Harley managed to regain her balance. The same couldn’t be said of the display case. It tipped just a little too far to be saved, and plummeted to the hard ground below.
Harley winced, squeezing both eyes shut, holding her balance as it smashed. Then, slowly, she cracked one eye to look at the mercenaries. Their weapons began to raise. Scowling at the Joker, who had forcefully suggested she ‘Do the thing!’ – by which he no doubt meant, ‘Take out the guys trying to hurt us please, doll-face’ – she stuck out her hand towards him. “Mallet!” she demanded. If she was going to fight a whole squad of gunmen by herself, she wanted her trusty weapon.
That, or a gun of her own.
The Joker
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Post by The Joker on Mar 4, 2021 20:59:03 GMT -5
Joker cackled obnoxiously, the sound driving into the ears of everyone in the room and grating on their nerves with the painful sound of nails running the length of a chalkboard.
"HAHAHAHEEHEEHEEHOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHEEHEHEEEEE!"
The Clown Prince of Crime was having an absolute ball. He could see that Harley was having much of the same fun in tormenting a gang of soldiers of fortune who thought they could have the upper hand against Gotham's most dangerous clown. It truly brought a smile to Joker's face, but Joker smiled about everything and this was not a smile of pleasure. He hated seeing Harley have fun! Especially after she had betrayed him and thought herself good enough to strike out on her own. That was why he pushed her, that was why he threw her into harm's way with a mighty swing of his hips. She was the henchwench, she did as she was told, and right now J was telling her to kick the asses of the people who dared to point high powered rifles at him. That was always their dynamic: Harley did the life-risking stuff while Joker escaped to plan a caper another day.
Joker's face was all teeth as his lips stretched in a gigantic smile. He cared not about the item that smashed along with its housing that Harley had knocked over, he didn't even care if that was the one thing the soldiers were there to protect and nab, all he cared about was putting Harley back in her place.
She shouted for the mallet and Joker giggled with glee. He tossed the mallet to her with both hands, bouncing excitedly as the wooden weapon sailed toward her. He wanted her to maim and break bones and kill. He wanted her to do it for him. HE WANTED HIS HARLEY BACK!
Springy thin legs sent Joker bounding toward the opposite end of the room, a place where he dove over a computer and threw his back up against it once he was safely behind the piece of equipment.
"Swing away, toots!" He commanded/chided/pleaded in a gravelly ton.
Joker had faith in Harley, he knew she could do some real damage when she really wanted to and with her signature weapon of choice there was little doubt at least half of the team of mercenaries wouldn't be making it out of that room. But could she take all of them? Well, Joker didn't care that much if she did or not. Either way, the show would be a riot to watch unfold! Harleen Quinzel
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33Likes
41Posts
I dunno about ‘genius,’ but I do got a PhD.
Star / Kory
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Post by Harleen Quinzel on Mar 20, 2021 5:18:37 GMT -5
Harley watched wide-eyed and open-mouthed as her mallet sailed toward her, thrown with far more force than was necessary. There was so much ‘oomf’ behind the lob that it almost carried the comically oversized weapon over her head and out of reach - almost. Standing on the tip of her tippy-toes, she managed to touch her gloved fingertips to the weapon’s haft and take hold, only to be dragged from her feet, falling flat after halting the giant hammer’s momentum. She collapsed in an awkward starfish shape a few feet from where she’d been stood, as her former spot was hosed with automatic gunfire.
“Heeeey!” she whined, “You were gonna shoot me!” Springing to her feet, re-armed, petulant and dangerous, she gripped her mallet in both hands and began swinging it at the display cases nearest to her – launching the glass and the contents at the armed squadron with lethal force. “I. Though. We. Had. An. Understanding!” Each word was punctuated with another swing and another explosion of flexi-glass, causing some of the black-armoured squadron to drop back, trying to get out of Harley’s effective range.
It was no use. With the last display case about her gone, she cartwheeled into their midst. There, their guns were almost useless – if they fired, they were as likely to hit their allies as they were the jester that sprang and pirouetted amongst them. She bounced, thrashed, slid and spun in a strange, uncoordinated and incoherent manner. However, her effectiveness was unquestionable. All about her, the invading mercenaries dropped, some pummelled by her mallet, some launched across the room with heavy kicks or wild, over-the-shoulder throws. Some she even dispatched using items from the cases, those free from imprisonment. One she jabbed with a rather fierce-looking needle, another was shot with strange, pulsating energy thing-a-ma-jig, and a third was floored with a blowgun – or what she hoped was a blow gun – because it’s the only way she could work out how to operate it.
Pausing mid-destruction, she pulled a face and quickly dropped the dart-tube to the floor, spitting after it, as if clearing her mouth from potential alien germs. "Eurck!" The brief respite also allowed her a moment to catch her breath, assess her surroundings and check how many opponents she had left to wallop - including her former Beau, of course.
The Joker
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Post by The Joker on May 3, 2021 19:29:31 GMT -5
Oooh what a riot it was! Joker was right, as he knew he would be. He had used the other clown on more occasions than he could count (or cared to even keep track of) to sicc her on his would be enemies. If Harley wasn't good for anything else, and she wasn't, she was definitely good for that. The giant computing device Joker hid behind was well outside of the war zone radius but still he didn't allow himself to come from behind it fully. White fingertips gripped the edge as Joker's stringy ball of green hair lifted over the horizon of the computer. His head stopped no lower than green eyes. Joker watched wide-eyed as mallet broke bone, backs struck far walls, glass exploded in a symphony of chaotic goodness, and bodies dropped faster and faster. It wasn't often that Joker watched his creation's work, he often used her beatings as a means of distraction so he could get away. There was nowhere to get away to now, his primary business was to deal with Harley - and he probably could have used this moment as a distraction for her and take her out in that moment...but he didn't. Joker watched what she could do and the smile he wore hidden behind the STAR Labs computer slowly folded in on itself until it had quite literally turned upside down.
As more and more mercenaries (or whatever they were) were dispatched in increasingly inventive ways, Joker became more and more pissed off! This was the show the opposing clown was trying to take on the road! These were skills and talents opened up to her by none other than The Joker himself. Without him, she would just be Harleen Quinzel. A nobody! The fire inside of Joker was reignited tenfold!
He had followed after the insane former psychiatrist with the intention of killing her. It made perfect sense: if he couldn't have her then nobody could. But now Joker saw the folly in his endeavor. He didn't have to put down his pup just because it was misbehaving, that was the sign of a misfit owner who was undeserving of their pup. And how could Joker be unfit if Harley Quinn would not even exist without him. So Harley had decided to rip up furniture and sh*t in the house, to keep the analogy going, that just meant Joker would have to house break her again. Emphasis on the break.
As Harley soaked up the intermission, Joker finally withdrew from his hiding place. His face was still stuck in its horrid frown, the fun and games were over as far as J was concerned. Harley was done with the hors d'oeuvres and now it was time for the main course. The men she attacked weren't dead but one of them was still conscious. After wriggling for a moment the soldier in black pushed himself to a kneeling position and reached forward for a dropped weapon. Joker walked past the man and shot him point blank in the back of the skull. His gun clattered to the hard flooring beside the deceased, Joker's eyes remaining fixed on Harley.
"Harley, come."
He spoke sternly, just the way Cesar Millan said to show dominance as the pack leader to your pooch. A long, chalk white finger pointed at the title just in front of Joker, the spot where he was commanding Harley to come. Joker was done tugging on her leash, that just made her tug even harder in the opposite direction. He was the alpha and she would listen like she was supposed to!
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