5176/Smile!: Return of the King

Smile!: Return of the King
Date of Scene:	15 August 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Harley's lawyer turns out to be a
Cast of Characters:	Harley Quinn, Shadow King

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Harley Quinn has posed:
"Buuuut I shot a man in RENO...just to waaatch hiiim diiiiie..." Harley has been entertaining the precinct for the past twelve hours straight. Showtunes, prison tunes, 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. You name it, she's sung it. Money has changed hands several times, as bets are lost on how long she can keep going.

They moved her from the general population to a cell as close to solitary confinement as they had, within hours of her arrival in the Precinct 11 Resort and Spa, because she had herded the other women in her cell into a corner, and was using an imaginary whip and chair to tame them. Now, Harley is worn down. Tired. Makeup smeared but not quite all removed, from when they took her mugshot. She's spent, but determined.

"Noboooody knoooows the trouble I've seeeeen..." The guard sighs, glances at his watch, and pulls our a twenty dollar bill, sticking it through the bars, and Harley delightedly grabs it and stuffs it into her cleavage as she continues to sing. Hey, winning is winning.

Shadow King has posed:
"She even /has/ a lawyer? You know what, Gotham freaks never surprise me anymore, I don't know why I even ask questions anymore," comments one of the police officers down the hallway, out of vision of those within. "That's saying something, you're in mutant town," the other policeman agrees with a snort. "Hey, my retirement's in three days. I thought I'd finish out without Gotham people, yet here we are."

Arrangements are slowly being made to get Harley moved to talk to the lawyer. Interrogation room will have to work. Then somebody realizes they should at least find out if she's willing to do it. If she's not, then things will be a lot easier on them. "Your lawyer's here. Going to keep singing, or what to talk to 'im?" asks one of the younger guards, standing by her cell entrance, arms crossed.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Swiiing loooowwww, sweet chaaaaaaaaaariottt...comin' for t--" Harley scarcely takes a breath. "Oooh I have a lawyer?" There is a collective sigh throughout the precinct as wads of cash are exchanged. Harley stands up, dressed in an dayglow orange jumpsuit with the words "11th Precinct" stenciled in black on the back. It's too big. Rolled up at the wrists. Rolled up at the ankles. She practically looks like she's preparing for a space walk. She trundles over to the bars and grabs onto them. "Is he hot?"

Shadow King has posed:
The guard stares at her. "sure ...why not," he answers her, dubiously. "Rather stay here, or are we going to do this? I'm really fine if you want to sit tight," says the guard. His lapel identification determines his last name is 'Peterson'. "You'll need to do the same thing as when we moved you over here. Face the wall, hands up and spread," the guard says, shrugging, as if probably hopeful that she'll decline the whole thing and he can go back to his chair and other duties.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley trots over to the wall excitedly and squishes her nose against it. Hands up. Feet spread waaaaay wider than they need to be, just to be difficult. "Is he a good lawyer? I only accept the best surprise lawyers. I need to know that this guy is thoroughly vetted and checked out. Has he had his shots? Did he bring me some candy? Does he bite? OH I hope he bites..."

Shadow King has posed:
The guard sighs deeply when Harley complies. More trouble for him. "You can ask him in a minute. All of those things," Peterson says. He flags down the other guards to give him a hand with her, to get her cuffed and situated for the conversation. Once done, they'll guide/drag her to the interrogation room. There are two men there at the 'interrogation watcher' side while she's taken to the room, that Harley won't have seen before, probably detectives, by their dress: a seedy, foul looking pair of them that eye her as if sizing her up for a coffin.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Hiya, Boooys!" Harley chirps as she half-skips, and is half-dragged into the room. "I got somethin' nice for ya!" She craaaaaaanes her neck down, grabbing the corner of the twenty dollar bill in her teeth and fishing it out, and ptooie! On the table in front of them. "VOILA! Donuts, on me!" Well not technically on me, cause the twenty's all I had ON me. You can frisk me if ya don't believe me. C'mon, FRISK meeee..." She's begging, even as she's steered into a chair and forced to sit.

"You know, I'd like to speak with your manager, uhh...Peterson. Your bedside manner is SORELY lacking." Or maybe he's just pissed because his twenty is now buying donuts for these jerks.

Shadow King has posed:
"Where's the bloody lawyer?" demands one of the cops that refuses to touch the twenty that now appeared on the table. Peterson attaches her cuffs to a loop at the side of the table: no doubt they've had some interesting mutants here in mutant town, and the security is up to the task. Peterson also snares his twenty off the table to smirk at her, taking it back, as he's the last out of the room as they file out to give her time, presumably, with the lawyer that still isn't present. The door remains ajar, though, and now and then she's looked at through it.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. Ninety-nine bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around. Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall." Harley's jingling her cuffs in time with the music, as she stealthily pushes a hair pin between her lips from somewhere inside her mouth, and drops it into her hands with a quick nod of her head as it keeps time with the music.

"Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall, Ninety-eight bottles of beer! Take on down, pass it around..." she continues her song as she tries to pick the lock on her cuffs, using her body to block that particular activity from sight of those watching her through the doorway.

Shadow King has posed:
    The door sweeps open with a flippant throw of palm, to allow said lawyer entrance to the room. He hums along with her, waving one gloved hand in time to the song with a soft, gleeful manic quality. He's dressed in a beige long overcoat and hat, a white button-up under it with a neat black and purple diamond vest, small matching tie. Shoes are extremely well shined.

An easy shove of a shiny heel actually fully closes the door, and the new arrival slides in. He flips the chair across from her around neatly and mounts it, dumping a manila folder in front of him onto the table. A lick of thumb and he makes a big show of flipping it open. It's slightly weird, since he has gloves on, to lick the finger. But it will get weirder.

    "Got a few charges here, huh. Blah blah toxins, blah blah putting people at risk, blah blah Justice League...." It's still hefty, she had some fun in the city. "I expected more, though. This is so light and flimsy. And no /pictures/?!" chides a horribly familiar voice.

    The Joker leans an elbow on the table and pushes his hat up with one forefinger to give her a broadly electric grin. Green eyes under the shade of the hat flicker with a dark amusement. "You must be so BORED. It's just tragic. And not the good kind of tragic clown."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"I /was/ bored," Harley laments as she continues to pick the lock on her cuffs. "Suppose you came to gloat about HOW MUCH BETTER you'd have done if YOU were there..." There are a few clicks, and the cuffs are open, but Harley doesn't move her hands, instead opting to watch the cuffs for a moment, before her wild blue eyes go wide, and she slowly looks up again at her lawyer.

"P-Puddin'?" she asks hesitantly, and softly so as not to alert anyone. "Have ya come to kill me? I'll scream, I swear to God, I will." No one would come. She knows that, too. They'd rather watch someone strangle her and deal with /that/ aftermath, than to come to her aid and risk whatever she might do to them if she lived.

Shadow King has posed:
"Don't tempt me. You know how much I -enjoy- screaming," the 'lawyer' answers with a roll of his eyes and sharp laugh. He's in a good mood, she'll read it loud and clear, no doubt. He flips off his hat and loosely dumps it on the table, stretching his back with a soft sound of the moving snaps in the spine.

Outside, perhaps on cue from the hat removal, there's sounds of scuffle, some gunfire. He waves his hand back and forth in the same manner that he did to conduct her singing earlier. It's all a wonderful melody, the whole lot of it. "But if you're asking nicely, hell, I can change the plan," he says, tapping his fingers down along the manila folder edge in some wonky seductive gesture that immediately ends as he flips the folder shut, and smooths one hand over the side of slicked green hair.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Then..." Harley utters over the sounds of scuffling and gunfire. "You came to save me? Awww...Puddinnn', I thought you forgot all about me." She climbs over the table and tilts her head, still on hands and knees, partially on the folder. "That's so sweeeeeet!" She's grinning ear to ear, and nods toward the door. "Wanna get outta here? We can blow this popcicle stand, they haven't got anything I wasn't prepared to lose. Sure liked that bustier, though. Awh, I'll just get another one."

Shadow King has posed:
Her rescuer doesn't move at all, relaxes where he is in his chair, as if everything about this were entirely going to his plan. It probably is. He folds one arm across the upper back of the chair, and uses opposite hand to tap her forearm with a finger. The same one he licked earlier, really. It's still a bit moist. Joker spit.

"Doing you one better. Got something I want you to do for me," he says, grinning into her enormous grin. A creepy echo-chamber of murderous clown smiles - if anyone was daring to watch them, which at this point, they aren't. "Eh, we'll get six," he shrugs of the bustier, surging to his feet and tipping the chair over entirely with the motion. He dumps off his coat near her, without seeing if she cares to take it, or the hat, or not. He doesn't actually care. He takes his time polishing the cufflinks though, listening to the array of activity outside with an easy patience.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley slides off the table to her feet and picks up the coat and hat, putting them on. "Aww it smells like ya," she says with a dopey grin as she seats the hat, a little too big, on her head. "And ya won't be disappointed this time. Promise!" She skip-hops after him as he polishes his cufflinks. "I'll make ya proud. Whaddya want? I'll do anything!" Harley's as giddy as she's seemed in some time. A Puddin' /and/ a project. She couldn't be happier.

Shadow King has posed:
"/Anything/? That's my girl," Joker says with an over-broad grin. He pats down his pockets, finds the radio he was after. He starts to speak into it, but then changes his mind, and flips it at her. "You remember the drill, eh? Tell 'em," he says, with a flutter of palm, leaving her to yell things at the troops if she so chooses to do so. After all, the cops were detaining HER, it's her revenge now. His eyes are slightly narrowed, a watchfulness there, but also an arrogant amusement. Things are going his way today, and going forward, too. "Tell ya more in the car."

With that, he pulls open the door, a jaunty half-dance in his step as he saunters out into the mix of masked thugs and various others still engaged, accepting a gun from one of the henchmen as it's offered to him.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"That's it, Boys, you've got 'em on the run! If anybody sees Peterson, he's got twenty bucks that belongs to ME. Nab it. If he's got any more cash on 'im, well...let 'im keep it. But the twenty's MINE! Now ROLL those Blueberries till they're outta the way. I'm bustin' outta here, SEEEE?" She giggles as she peeks out the door, the radio still in hand. "We goin' home, Puddin'?" she asks, eyes still wide, as she looks up at him.

Harley Quinn is empowered. Maybe it's the chaos. Maybe it's the violent madness. Or maybe it's just the Joker spit.

Shadow King has posed:
"Gotham sweet Gotham," Joker jokes at her without turning around to look, firing along the wall for no reason other than to make the 'target' of the shots yelp and drop flat onto the floor. "I'm walkin' 'ere," he snarks at the man in a moderately reasonable impression, slamming a palm on one of the doors, and heading outside. The chaos is all around them and in their wake; it surely IS one of the factors contributing to the positive mood. What else could it be?

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Scuse me, pardon me!" Harley prances after the Joker spinning around scuffles and jumping over the ones who are down. "Can we get some cotton candy on our way home?" she asks brightly, unfazed by the chaos in the room. Or feeding on it.

"I can't believe they just let ya in here, but I'm sure glad they did. Bet it was Steve. It was Steve, wasn't it? He's not the brightest tool in the shed." She hops over one more, almost as if playing hopscotch. Sucking in air through her teeth, she adds, "Oooh.../wasn't/ the sharpest tool in the shed."

Shadow King has posed:
With a sudden snap of fingers, Joker diverts sideways into a hall, and promptly begins to not only release all the OTHER people in the holding cells, but accepts a box brought to him by one of his own thugs. Various personal effects. He hands over the box to Harley to do what she wants with it, while accepting the confused praise and cheering from those he so thoughtfully released. One of the drunkards nearly throws up on his shiny shoes, though, and Joker gestures for a thug to backhand him. Handled, easy as pie.

"We don't have to stop. You should SEE the machine I have. Makes a twirl of blue and pink together, pretty as a picture," Joker says, suddenly reminded of one of the reasons why he'd had her around before. She APPRECIATES proper things. Joker doesn't hop over people, he steps on them as he goes back towards where he'd originally been headed, with a puzzled shake of his head.

From the back of one of the holding cells comes an eerie figure. An injured mutant that stares with depthless black eyes at both Joker and Harley, and starts to glide out, seemingly unseen by any of the others present. It had 'eyes' for Harley, though.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley looks a little confused as the two divert to the other cells, but assumes that the Joker is just intent on creating more chaos. She giggles as she's handed the box, and peers inside. "My BUSTIER!" It's nestled in there with her tophat, which is sadly somewhat crushed. No matter, she can get another.

Harley pauses and blinks dolefully at the mutant as he glides past them. For the first time since she entered the Precinct, she shudders a little. Fear? Maybe. She can't even really put a name to it. "L-let's get outta here, Puddin'. I don't like the way that guy looked at me..."

Shadow King has posed:
Joker looks. He doesn't react to the mutant, though, he reacts to the person just to the side, who is definitely trying not to make eye contact with either clown. Joker promptly shoots THAT guy. And looks at her. And then shrugs and heads out towards the car. Obviously he fixed the problem.

The mutant continues to stare at them a long moment before sliding out of the front of the place. The air feels slightly cleaner. Except that one of the thugs has now set off the sprinklers. Joker reacts positively to this, with a long happy laugh, spinning once in the water, before exiting outside finally. All the delays... but fun ones. Shooting, sprinklers. The works. He leaps into the back of the getaway vehicle-- a creepy white panel van in this case, and kicks one of his own guys out of it. The thug can find another vehicle to ride in; they brought plenty.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley hops into the van behind the Joker and peers outside, unaffected by a little water, but staring nervously out the back of the van. "I didn't mean that guy, I meant the one next to him," she clarifies, but she shuts the door behind her anyway. "Let's just go, I'm sure we'll never see THAT guy again..." Famous last words.

"NOW then, lemme give ya a PROPER greetin', why don't ya?" Harley throws her arms around the Joker and plants a big kiss on him. "THAT'S fer savin' me." She kisses him again. "And THAT'S for takin' me with ya, and not just dumpin' me off at the curb!"

Shadow King has posed:
"Close enough," Joker grants as she clarifies which guy he was supposed to be shooting for her. "All look the damn same, the cops," he shrugs. "Close the door, you raised in a barn?" Joker yells at the thug that started to climb in after himself and Harley. The thug wisely shuts the door on the van and runs off.

There's some considerable sirens and response coming for them, and the van lurches as it makes a sudden break for it. Their time is short as usual, but Joker wouldn't have it another way. This is far more exciting. He steers her to sit on his left thigh distractedly, while flipping open the gun in his free hand to check ammo count.

    "You won't be able to do what I want ya to do from the gutter," he provides. He does, of course, want something from her; the high level of tolerance is proving that. He tugs briefly on one of her pigtails. "Fillin' the clown car with some old friends. Prison break," Joker grins, darkly. "Just for starters; that's barely act one."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"He wasn't a co--" but she's interrupted as the Joker yells at the thug trying to get in the van. As the van careens away, she listens to what information he has for her, and nods enthusiastically. "Ooooh," coos Harley, and she giggles as he tugs her black-dipped pigtail. She balances, sitting on his thigh as the van makes evasive maneuvers. "What's step TWO?"

Shadow King has posed:
Joker lifts his other hand, gun still dangling effortlessly from ring and pinkie, and gestures an enormous smile over his own features. As if his grin could GET any bigger. But this is a clear indication of Smilex. She's had long enough of a history with him to pick up on something such as that. "We're pullin' out all the stops. A good giggle gas.... in bulk. New labels. New packaging. New /outreach/." He passes his tongue over his lower lip. "Being Queen of Distribution comes with a crown an' everything," he says, as if offering her the world, with the grand gesture that comes with it. "Sharing the /wealth/."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"QUEEN?" Harley grins. "Queen of Distribution. That DOES have a REALLY nifty ring to it," Harley chimes, her arms draped over the Joker's shoulders. "I feel like I'm on TOP of the world. Except for you. Cause of course you're even on top of ME." It's clear she didn't mean anything by it. It's also clear that she's oblivious to any further implication. "I've got me a BUSINESS MAN," she says with a grin. "And he's smart and savvy, and all business-minded. An /entrepreneur/ even!"

Shadow King has posed:
"The world won't know what hit it." A pause. And a cocky laugh. "Who I kiddin? Of course it will. Nobody puts a smile on their faces like I do.... willin or not." He twists one hand up and pulls the hat from her head to take it back, a flick of wrist making it tip roguishly. It's a 'crown' of sorts, worn in that manner. The van veers and he has to brace from the twisting shove of partial impact. There's a chase or something going on. Unconcerned, he takes in her compliments with pleasure.

"But first, what did I say? Cotton Candy." He did promise. And he /remembered/. Wonders may never cease.