7250/Great Big Gotham City: Baby's on Fire

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Great Big Gotham City: Baby's on Fire
Date of Scene: 16 April 2019
Location: Gotham City
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn




Joker has posed:
There's a late night event at the Iceberg Lounge, a party thrown by the Joker in honor of Harley Quinn's recent escape from Arkham Asylum. She's been invited by the Joker, in a grand romantic gesture, to her own special event. Joker knows how to entertain, and although he may not like Harley, not even the least bit, he certainly loves her like a comfortable pair of shoes that he walked in the ocean with.

Maybe even a pair of shoes that he walked on water with.

There's a swing band in full bombast, with a singer dressed in a black and red dress singing on stage, throaty and beautiful tunes coming out of her in Italian as the band behind her rocks along in rhythm with each other.

The dance floor is full of galloping mobsters in zoot suits and sashaying women of the evening in chic skank dresses, with tables crowded by mentally ill in fetish wear and Joker's favorite thugs wearing clown costumes.

Joker presides over it all, in the back of the festivities, on a raised dais that supports a pair of thrones, Joker on one and the other empty, waiting for his Queen, the guest of the evening, Harley Quinn.

The liquor is flowing, beer and wine everywhere, with fantastic meats and seafoods and pastries passed about, with smoke from tobacco and marijuana and opium rising from the tables and from along the bar at the side of the club.

Harley Quinn has posed:
You can't show up to your own party, being thrown by the love of your psychopathically obsessed life without getting dolled up. So, white face, one eyeshadow black, the other red. Alternating with the pigtails, of course, need some conflict in the colors. A little set of 4 black diamonds makeupped on her left cheek. And then the outfit is some kind of spaghetti strapped babydoll styled dress that goes down to her mid-thigh. Half black, the other red, alternating with her eye shadow, and then the Harley Diamonds on opposite sides along the outfit like her own version of Yin and Yang. Then, of course, for the top part that provides support, it is alternating from the dress below. A lot of black and red, and switching patterns in a very classic Harley Quinn styled outfit. That said, she's got on stockings that swap from the bottom portion of the dress and naturally some small heeled shoes, nothing high (you can't gymnastically flip in those very easily), alternating from those.

She's spent some time on it all, and is happy, grinning, even holding a boquet of red and black roses someone gave her as she entered into the lounge. "Thank you, it's nothin' really, I mean who hasn't broken out of Arkham, huh?" And then she's walking, muttering to herself with a big happy grin, "Though ain't a single time it's been celebrated by Mistah J." Whom she's looking around for, and once she sees him at the back, near the thrones. She almost, practically, nearly comes close to skipping in his direction, but instead she's just walking quickly. When someone comes over to congratulate her on her escape she just moves forward, her shoulder hitting the man hard who stumbles back, "Outta my way."

Once she's approaching, and close to the thrones, she's smiling, "Mistah J, ya threw all this fer lil' ol' me?" She wonders, bright eyed and watching with a big smile. Not yet taking the other throne seat.

Joker has posed:
"For you, Harley Quinn, anything."

Joker offers Harley a Cheshire grin as he slinks out of his throne with a press of his hand on the arm, extending the other with his hand genteel and his palm up, pinky limp. Taking her hand, he pulls Harley to spin and sit in the throne, as they stand together on the dais, with dancer's feet tonight and a pair of snappy shoes that click smartly on the smooth surface.

Joker swings his arm out, and a microphone slides out of his sleeve, which he pulls to his mouth.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he calls out, standing atop the dais, as people go quiet and the band murmurs away. The lights dim, and the dancing ceases, a soft reverb in the club as there's a drum rattle from the three VIP booths above the club.

A spotlight flashes on with a snap, on Joker and Harley.

"Welcome to this star studded event, where I welcome the love of my life, Doctor Harleen Quinzel, from her brief sabbatical studying the primitive man of medicine."

He takes a step backwards, beside Harley, and smiles down at her, people clapping.

"Harley, you cured my mind, and instead, gave me a mad heart."

Harley Quinn has posed:
Someone could probably see Harley's heart skip a beat as she just melts from the very first line. Her hand goes out and she's pulled by the Joker into a little fun twirl that makes her laugh a bit, almost into a soft cackle as she's spun about and then pulled close to the throne. She looks up to The Joker and her eyes get wide as he grabs the microphone.

There's a bit of sniffling, and then, gets a spotlight on her. Squinting and scrunching up her eyes, she shoulds, "Hey! Tone it down a little up there. What am I some kinda pet iguana?!" And she pulls off one of her shoes and tosses it at whomever is holding the light, and there's a small 'clunk' sound as the light tilts off to the side, and a person collapses on the catwalk above.

Right back to smiling big as The Joker continues to introduce her, "Your... I am? Your. I... I don't know what to say." She can't even begin to blush with all that white on her face though she stares wide-eyed, "Ya mean it? This ain't some sorta trick where I end up in a dynamite cake again right? I knew they weren't candles, all sparkly like that. Or, to get me on some kind of roller coaster missing tracks, jus' ta catch the Bats? Do, ya... really really mean it?"

This all said straight to The Joker, as the entire rest of the room just kind of disappears. Because, who cares about clapping? When The Joker is right -there-.

Joker has posed:
"All love is, Harley, is a chemical reaction of malfunctioning neural synaptic relays, Harleen," the Joker coos, "Induced by the glandular desire to mate before undertaking a period of risk interpreted by the brain as life threatening."

Joker smiles, placing his left hand over his chest. "If we're together, against all the guns in Gotham City, we'll be in love forever, won't we?"

Joker swings out to the audience, swinging his arm up. "Two people, united in a molecular chain reaction to destroy an entire city, with a little voodoo doll in a cape chasing us through the night to anoint us beneath a chapel of roses!"

Joker turns to Harley Quinn, a sly look on his face, as his red, ripe lips, slide up into a coy smile, his eyebrows quirking to the side. Hair tossed to the side and dangling in an arch over his white, furrowed brow, he murmurs, "So, Harley, whaddya say? We give the folks a show?"

There's a hush, as Joker places his hand on Harley's hip, tilting his head to the side.

"You're a cherry bomb, lover," he says with hoots from the crowd. "And I'm a little kid that likes firecrackers."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"And yer malfunctionin' fer me?" Harley asks more quietly as she then smiles big, "If yer goin' up against the biggest guns this side of that nasty river on 34th street, I'll skinny dip inta radioactive sludge, and drink that medicine that's flavored purpole, lyin' that it's grape." Harley starts and then she tosses her boquet off to the side and moves forward.

"Mistah J, what I'm tryin' ta say is. Even if rabbid T-rexes got enough of the electoral college votes, started up some laws sayin' that no people could ever been close again, I'd still risk it. All those sharp teeth, and tiny lil' arms tryin' ta get to me. Even if they were comin' after me in a park where people foolishly were playin' wit' genetics, an' I was a lawyer, I'd still risk it."

And with the cherry bomb comment, Harley puts a hand on Joker's shoulder, and lets the other one go to his hand, still in just one shoe at this point, and stocking sliding on the ground otherwise, "You light my magnesium infused wick."

Joker has posed:
"Harley, where did they keep you when they were writing the Bible?" Joker asks with a sotto voice, smiling with soft, moonlight eyes.

Joker leans in and kisses Harley with his soft, poet's lips, tilting her backwards with a slide of his hand on the hip behind her waist, moving from the Che Guevera clown everyone sees to the urban Fidel Castro that some only sense, revealing his true nature to Harley alone. His mouth tastes like freshly cleaned from a dentist, cherry flavor, with just a hint of mint from a chewed leaf.

Then, a spin with the soft tilt of Harley backwards, his microphone hand supporting her upper back, before he pulls her back to a standing position and breaks the embrace. "I'm giving you a free license to kill tonight, Harley. Your orders, I kill anyone in this room, just ask," he whispers in her ear, before kissing her cheek, hard, and swinging out to the side, holding her hip to hip.

"Revelers, enjoy the festivities! Tropical hot dog night, with steak and roast chicken and lobster!"

The lights flash back on to the party volume, and there are cheers, as people clap over their heads and the swing band slams back into play, with a high Italian sonata emerging from the singer on stage.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"I was probably in middle school detention." Answering the question as if it was actually asked, but Harley's mind quickly vents all thoughts out the window with the kiss from the cherry flavored flouride solution used, and her eyes close and her arms wrap around the Clown King's shoulders. She's otherwise puddy.

When she's back up on her feet, she actually stumbles a few steps, the acrobatic tight-rope walking, parkour mistress of the night. And she points in the direction of some random person, "That guy." And she isn't even looking, just staring right at The Joker, chest rising and falling quickly as she then pulls her hands together and holds them clasped, up near her chest.

"It's tropical hot dog night?" There's a small tug on her face, almost visibly, like a fish hook is in her mouth trying to turn her head in the direction of these tropical hot dogs but she stops, and gets her grin back and staring straight at The Joker. Watching, waiting for the senseless violance.

Whomever she pointed at she doesn't know who he is, or how important he is to any organization, she was just as likely to point at a waiter as some crime boss. Could be some father who found himself in the wrong lounge tonight, she doesn't care. "I also got a fun idea of somethin' I wanted ta do fer a long time. I'll tell ya all about it. It'll be a blast."

Joker has posed:
Joker laughs at Harley's response, and says, "You know, Harley, some day, I'll have to teach you comedy." Comedy is never funny, after all. Harley is a psychologist, that's different.

Joker swings around, spotting the man that Harley pointed at. Joker throws his microphone away with a hurl, a thug catching it and nonchalantly putting it away, going back to washing out a mug behind the bar as if nothing had happened.

"You!" The city's premier football team scout looks at Joker, terrified. "You, you stole my bus ticket! How am I supposed to get to work if my car breaks down? Do you care that some people in this city, need public buses, because of the terrible system with the economy? How laughably FRENCH!" Joker shouts, slapping his leg with a hand as he says the last word.

There's a roar, and everyone in the crowd starts mobbing him, beating and stomping him as he screams.

Joker turns about sweetly to Harley, fingers steepled with his knuckles faintly bent.

"Praytell, Harley?" he asks, flopping down in his throne and gesturing for his personal servant. A Stouffer's salisbury steak dinner in a black plastic tray is deposited on a television tray before him, with a large Boku orange juice on the side. The same servant, then offer Harley a classy menu, with wine, mixed drink, and rare beer selections on one side, an arrangement of appetizers, entrees, and desserts on the other side.

Harley Quinn has posed:
At the laugh, Harley Quinn giggles as she waits. Grinning at The Joker, till he starts walking off toward the person she pointed at. Turning to the thug who caught the microphone she says, "There goes my man, he's doin' what I want. Do ya see tha'? Jus' this once, but it's so, refreshin'. I mean, I jus'..." And the thug is wandering off from the woman's romantic ramblings. As she's about to continue she turns to see the brawl that breaks out, onto the one man.

"It's true, without a bus ticket yer jus' pollutin' the world with all them green house gases. And if ya do that you can't even blow anybody up, they'll all be underwater." It's a sensible argument, and Harley tilts her head as she watches as the foot ball coach gets beaten mercilessly.

Moving back over to the thrones, Harley looks to the other one, the one right next to The Joker's and moves in to sit down. She turns and rests her back against one of the arms, while cross-leggedly sitting so she fits and is facing the other throne. She looks at the menu, very seriously.

With her index finger rising up to her face, she starts slowly pushing at the side of her lip, then letting it go, then pushing, stretching her red-lipsticked mouth over and over again. "I'm gonna need 1 steak fer Bud. But then Lou's likely gonna steal that one, so gonna need another one fer Bud, an' I can't skimp, on Lou, so that's a total of three. But he'll want himself a chocolate cake fer the indigestion, and Bud he likes some of that fizzy club soda water." A pause as she starts chewing on her lip as she presses it into her mouth, "An' I'm tryin' ta watch my figure, so I'm going ta want an oreo shake, blended up with some pumpkin pie, and toss in one of them steaks fer good measure." A pause as she looks up to the waiter, squinting, "An' ya better bring me one of them curly twisty straws. 3 loopty loops. Or else." Her tone completely shifting to some kind of threat, before she hands back the menu.

"I was thinkin' of runnin' a race." Harley offers as her grand scheme, "Wit' people inside of some buses." Getting better, "An' they all got bombs strapped to 'em, an' if the buses go less than 55 miles per hour... boom! An' I can drive one, and you can too, if ya wanna?"

Joker has posed:
Joker tilts his chin up as he inserts a paper hankerchief into his collar, before he goes to work at his TV dinner.

"Buses, eh, Harl," Joker opines seriously, as if he's a married British man in the middle class, retired for ten years and watching television with his old wife. Cutting into his salisbury steak, heated in a microwave, with his plastic knife and fork, he muses, "Well, I can acquire the buses quite easily, but the trick of the game is how to get the people on them."

He bites into a piece of steak as the violent beating happens before them on the club floor, horrifying screams sounding out as the man is clubbed to death by feet.

"I've always contemplated being a school bus driver, you know, as retirement, once Batman finally hits old age and retires to Florida, with the other superheroes. I had a school bus driver that was a great influence on my life when I was young, put me in my first juvenile detention facility, for stealing the steering wheel while the bus was heading home. That's a story for another time, sufficed to say, those were the days of our lives."

Chewing peckishly, he furrows his eyebrows. "Bud and Lou are along? How are those old scamps, anyways?"

Joker's server moves away with the order committed to memory, to have the chef prepare them, top priority.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"I was thinkin', they got all them signs everywhere, and people stand there just waitin' ta get on some of them buses. If I jus' dressed up like a nice friendly bus driver, I could collect me some people real easy like." Harley starts, and then smiles, "And, if jus' pull inta a place fer a quick second and release a little monkey with them cymbals. You know, the ones that spray all that neurotoxin inta the air after the little wind-up stops? Then, tie on all the bombs and get to the start of the race."

Harley grins as she's been thinking about this whole thing, "And maybe, at the end of it all, we could do one of them little montage scenes where we are walkin' off inta the sunset a lil' crispy, and laughin' a bit? Arm in arm, like, gettin' ready for some kind of sequel."

Smiling bigger at the concern for her pups, that were at one point in time The Joker's until they became Harley's babies, pretty much obeying her and no one else. She awwws, "Nice of ya ta ask about 'em. They ain't old, they jus' pups still, an' they were gettin' famished at that SHIELD detention area, an' later back at Arkham. They don't even let 'em out fer any kind of chasing rabbits, or old people. Tha' place is a zoo, I'm tellin' ya." A disagreeable shake of her head toward Arkham and this SHIELD thing.

"You know, I like this Mistah J. Just you an' me, sittin', talkin'. Ya askin' me about my day, an' all. People screamin', it's all kind of... nice." Harley says and tilts her head looking down at the arm of her throne while she starts picking at the skin on her hand.

Joker has posed:
"Yes, yes," comes a low report from Joker, biting into another tiny piece of his diminuitive meal, before slowly and loudly sipping his juice box. "It is very nice, being here. Just be aware, I paid Penguin with a briefcase of wood chips, so we won't be able to meet him at the end of the night, when he gets here to collect his payment in the back. Old Ozzy is quite clever, but not smart enough to distrust women."

He laps his upper lip, eating his food dourly. "So, we trick them into getting onto the buses, rig up the explosives, then go racing? There's something, you know, magnifique, missing from the scheme." He turns to Harley, gesturing with his white plastic fork, as her food is brought out, plus two 'doggie' bags for Bud and Lou, individually packed inside foil and brown paper. A television tray is set out for her as well, with the final element, her shake, set out.

"We need the buses, rigged with explosives before we pick up our passengers, on the auspices of bringing them on a tour of Gotham City as Joker and Harley impersonators. See the joke?" He grins, tapping the plastic fork on his tray, eating a small scoop of macaroni and cheese, the garnish to the steak on the tray.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"No silly, I ain't meanin' like here here. I'm jus' meanin' with you. Could be in a waste compactor in the middle of an alien invasion. Jus' so long as your by my side." A grin perks up on Harley's mouth when she gets her doggy bags and the milkshake that is a horrendous amount of disparaging flavors, and her straw has 3 loops in it so she doesn't go all angry like.

Sucking on the end of the straw, she pulls harder, her cheeks caving in from the force required before finally blended up desserts and steak start to ooze through the straw and into her mouth.

WIth the plan updates, Harley starts to laugh a bit, and she leans backwards so her head is upside down as her hair bounces, since her back is bowed over the arm of the throne, "And we could even sell'em lil' key chains as souvenirs?" Reaching up, trying to stretch far enough to get her milkshake without moving her torso back up from the awkward position, "What if we do up our looks so we look like bad dress up costumes?" She continues to laugh a bit, shaking her entire body over that side of the throne, as she pulls herself back up she grins big, eyes are wide, "An' we race 'em straight into a bank or school or somethin'?"

Joker has posed:
Joker, patiently, explains as he drinks his juice, "But then we die, Harley, we die, and dying is a contingency to only be achieved after a libertarian is elected to the United States Presidency, so we can run Hell."

He sets his juice box down with an, 'ahhh'. "Bad dress up versions of ourselves, eh? I suppose I could consult my old friends in Hollywood, from my trick pony days, to see if I couldn't acquire us a pair of costumes that make us look like impersonators."

Joker's eyelids lower, watching Harley's cheeks cave in around the straw, smiling notoriously. "I love every second I'm with you, Harley Quinn." His eyes tilt downwards, little knives pointing out of his eyes at her chest. "Every last second of your heart."

Harley Quinn has posed:
Sucking down more of her shake, Harley Quinn tries to watch as the shake goes through the loops and then finally gets to where she has a hard time seeing it as the rest of the straw is in her mouth. With that out of the way she looks up to The Joker and smiles, "Yeah, I guess dyin' ain't the best idea."

Though when The Joker offers his comment about loving every second with her, she lets out a little swooning sound, "And I wish every last second of my heart beats for you. Even if it's stuck through with one of them railroad stakes, and spurtin' blood all over a dining car. No matter what, your my puddin'." And she's had such a great night but she points out to The Joker, "You wanna get outta here? Maybe steal a fancy car from a club, or somethin', and drive it on the sidewalk like the good ol' days?"

Joker has posed:
"Yeah, let's hit the road, we've got things to do."

Joker raises a hand, as he pushes his tray out and climbs to his feet, gently pulling Harley alongside him.

"Garcon? We need to visit the cigar room. I have a number of fine party favors in there to sample with my girl here."

The manservant nods politely, and Joker reaches to a rope nearby. He pulls it, and hidden trunks above the club open, dumping machine-rolled marijuana cigarettes on the club. There are cheers, as Joker hustles out the back, passing the cigar room and going past the kitchen, through the metal door to the alley outside.

He laughs as he looks back to Harley, guiding her by the hand, his eyes light and joyous. "Imagine Ozzy when he realizes that I ripped him off like this. His entire club, trashed for a week, and all that money gone! HA!"