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♡♦♡ HELLO, BEAUTIFUL... SEMI-CLAD GIRL ♡♦♡
Back in Harley Quinn's apartment in Downtown Gotham, she is seen sitting on a couch — the newest edition to her home. It matches her personality perfectly. It's a bright yellow couch with different shaped pillows on it. There is a dusty pink heart, a bright pink circle and a yellow square with a photo of Queen Elizabeth beaded onto it. The couch is stained slightly with several muddy paw prints, left there by Bruce and Eddie who currently lay by their owner's side. She is tattooing her left thigh with a janky homemade tattoo gun as the Looney Tuned plays on the small television.
She is covering up a mistake — a big one.
Her throbbing tattoo gun traces its painful needle on her pasty white skin, adding black ink beside a previous tattoo — "Puddin'." It forms the letter "G," changing the word from "Puddin'" to "Pudding."
Once she is finished, she moves onto tattooing the word "Cup" right beside it. So, now she has the words "Pudding Cup" in big, bold letters covering the skin on her left thigh.
This is the second coverup she has done so far, as the portrait of Edward Cullen has already been blocked out by a massive pink heart with white lace drawn around it. "Fuck Romeo & Juliet" is tattooed into the heart in black ink.
It's the start of a new beginning.
A deep frown awakens Harls lips and tears threaten to spill. But she pushes it down and toughens up by applying pressure onto the tattoo gun and going over the letter "P" a second and third time. It aches her skin, a trickle of blood the nasty result of the aggressive needle jabbing into her skin.
Finally, she cries out in pain and removes the device from her thigh. Her small shout startles her hyenas, their heads lifting up from the pillows to look at her. Harley, physically and emotionally hurting, out of nowhere yanks a knife sitting next to a rotting red apple on her coffee table and angrily throws it behind her. It perfectly hits a photo of Edward Cullen she had previously stuck onto the wall. Several knives are already piercing the photo, stabbing his eyes, neck and forehead.
Bullseye, she thinks. Her chest rises and falls heavily, angry tears now streaming down her eyes and cheeks... Goddamn you, Edward.
Several hours later, it is cold and raining in the city. On a busy sidewalk, stands Victor Zsasz and his boss, Oswald Cobblepot. Scoffing, the deadly assassin looks up at the sign atop the key-shaped door of a heavily crowded nightclub. A flirty smirk stretches across his face. The Sirens, reads the glowing pink sign with the large silhouette of a woman in a bunny costume right next to it.
Victor Zsasz, brittle in the voice and quite tall in figure, wears a suit ensemble that might've once been expensive, but is now just stained and hangs raggedly on him. He is bald, and completely hairless, it seems, lacking eyebrows, eyelashes, and any other facial hair. He could be quite handsome, with a face cut from marble, if not for the sallowness of his skin and deep and dark bags under his eyes, like bruises.
