The Joker's Perspective:
I'm taking Harley out for a romantic drive this evening, or so she thinks. In actuality it's another bright idea of mine to shed some light into her thoughts...I want to know what else she's hiding from me. Believe me... this 'Suicide Squad' she mentioned is going to ruin everything, and if she's a part of this then I'm getting her out of it.
I opened the car door for her, as gentlemanly as I could...of course I'm not really a gentleman but at least she thinks I am. She smiled at me and ducked her head to step into the passenger seat, holding up her dress so it didn't get caught in the door. After she made herself comfortable in the seat, I closed the door behind her. I then proceeded to get into the driver's seat. I looked at Harley, with mischief clearly showing in my glare.
I placed my hands firmly on the steering wheel and adjusted the grip of my fingers. I dragged one of my hands and clenched the gear-stick, moving it out of neutral and into reverse.
My foot cranked down onto the accelerator, making the car's tyres smoke and the engine spurt violently. The other foot remained locked on the brake. After a huge smoke-screen was created, I removed my foot off the accelerator and stopped trying to show off...only just a little of course. I reversed the car, turning it around one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees so it was facing the direction which I would be driving in. We're heading back the way we came.
"Where are we going?" Harley asked.
"It's a surprise" I said, half enthusiastically.
"I love surprises!" she replied excitedly.
"Then you'll love this one." I smiled, crunching the gear-stick into first gear.
The car pulled out onto the road, I proceeded to break the speed limit by accelerating past the gears and swerving in and out of other cars. Driving dangerously was a more thrilling joy-ride.
---
I drove the car into a designated parking space. It wasn't reserved for me, but I can park wherever I want. I'm The Joker. I'd like to see someone try and ask me to move my car from that particular parking space.
This time, it actually was a restaurant car park instead of my apartment. I owed her a romantic evening, but I didn't say it was going to just be a romantic evening...did I? No...there's much more fun in store yet, just you wait.
The restaurant formally labelled as 'Street Cafe Deluxe' was an extremely upper class version of a cafe, with the exception that it was a five star eating establishment. Ugh... big words, don't even think about trying to sound sane again, Joker.
I'll make a mental note: 'Don't try and act sane.' Mental note is now scrunched up and rammed into a dusty corner of my brain, where everything else is.
Anyway...we stepped out of the car, dressed in our incredibly formal clothing and proceeded to the entrance of Street Cafe Deluxe. The glass doors were heavy to open, I held the door open to allow my beautiful plus one to walk inside first. I followed soon after, allowing the door to freely close after letting go.
There stood a waiter standing idle near a small table, dressed in formal attire...bow tie, suit vest with a crisp white undershirt and a piece of linen draped over his arm. He looked repulsively towards us, me especially.
"I know, it's the tattoos. Or is it the green hair that's getting under your skin?" I forced his head up, making him gaze at the face of The Joker. "Are you ashamed to look at me? That's bad, bad for you and for your business. Well we can go elsewhere...if you'd prefer." I looked at his badge which was pinned to his uniform vest. 'Joe' "Well, 'Joe'...We'd like to book a table, and for god sake would you stop trying to avert your eyes from me! That's incredibly rude and offensive, how would you feel if I didn't look at you?" I took out a gun from the holster hidden under my tuxedo, I pointed it backwards and shot the waiter. I didn't look at him when I shot him, see the irony of the situation? I kept the gun actively in my hand, just incase any of the other restaurant staff got any bright ideas. The other hand romantically held onto Harley's hand.
"You sure showed him, puddin" Harley smiled at me, after glancing at the body of the waiter. "What if someone finds his body?"
"Then they get shot too" I chuckled. The other customers were frantically trying to get out of their seats, screaming so loudly that they nearly shattered their fancy wine glasses. I shot a few rounds in the air to control the crowd. "Stay the fuck in your seats or I'll fucking kill you!" I shouted angrily. "Just... you know, carry on with what you were doing. Pretend I'm not here."
Harley walked over to a couple sitting at a dining table with two chairs near the back of the restaurant, overlooking a window.
"Enjoying your meal?" she asked them. The couple didn't reply. "I'm tryin' to be nice, the least ya could do is talk to me" I shuffled past the tables until I reached the one Harley was near. "I'll give your compliments to the chef then" Harley said, winking at me.
I aimed the revolver at the couple. "The lady asked you a question, at least she's not the one holding a gun to your head is she?" I put the gun close to the male customer's head. I glared at the female customer who he was dining with. "So tell me, how is your food?" I jumped up on the table, kicking everything off the surface of the table until it was clear. I decided to publicly address the snobby clientele in the restaurant. "Listen up! You may not know this but you're all dangerously close to being shoved into body bags...so I suggest you all enjoy your evening. We'll even provide some entertainment for you!" I laughed, then jumped down from the table.
Harley and I stood in-front of the couple. I put my revolver towards the man's head. Harley got a discreet switch-blade knife out from her bra and put it towards the woman's neck.
"Let's invite them onto the stage, shall we?" Harley asked publicly.
The restaurant featured a small stage, with a pole used for pole-dancing in the middle of the stage.
We both forced the couple onto the stage, threatening stances still in play.
"This lucky couple gets to join in the special act tonight! You've got the best seats in the house! Front row seats like this would cost you a fortune if you bought them, think yourselves lucky you're witnessing this. And think yourselves even luckier that you still have your eyes to be able to view this amazing show of entertainment!" I laughed.
"Now... we can't have you two standing up! No, that'd be too uncomfortable for you." Harley said, running off to grab two dining chairs. The dining chairs they were originally sitting in. She shortly returned with one chair at a time.
"Take a seat" I ordered, gesturing politely for them to sit down. The couple sat in a chair each, scared shitless... that was to be expected. "Now, does anyone have a camera? Anyone?" I asked, looking around for a raised hand. "No? Nobody has a camera, not even a phone on them?Bullshit...do we have to come over there and rummage through your expensive handbags too?"
"I already did tehehehe" Harley giggled, holding up an expensive handheld camera which was found in the female hostage's handbag. She handed the camera to me and then reassured the woman she was in control, the knife near the throat situation was always a good way of making people talk.
I inspected the camera. "Well that's no good, it's got a massive crack in the lens!" I dropped the camera on the floor. "Doesn't even take a hit." I then turned to the couple. "Would you two take more hits than this camera?" I asked, putting my gun back in the holster and getting out my switch-blade from my pocket. Guns are so quick, you need to really savour the victim's suffering. This, well this might be a little sharp to use for cutting up your tender meat which is either undercooked or burnt. Chefs can never get it right these days." I started explaining about something random, just to make them think I wasn't going to kill them. For that split-second just before the blade appears from the seemingly harmless sheath. Ping! Out it popped. There we were, about to ruin their romantic evening so me and Harley could have our own romantic evening together. The things I do for love...Hmph.
"What are we gonna do with them, puddin?" Harley asked, looking at me with a glint in her eye. An evil glint in her eye.
I turned to the entirety of the restaurant diners and projected my voice, asking an incredibly difficult question. "What do you think? Kill them or hurt them?" I paused for a few seconds, not allowing them to actually shout out an answer, but to choose for them. "Kill them? That's a great choice!" I laughed maniacally as I slit the male diner's throat open, Harley followed suit. Both diner's bodies slumped in their chair, gasping for medical attention. But receiving none. "Weren't they great sports? I think they deserve a round of applause!" I demanded the audience to cheer at my wrong-doings.
The diners nervously applauded, slowly and quietly.
"You can do better than that!" Harley shouted, raising the bloodied knife up in the air, fresh blood dripping from the blade.
"Thank goodness I didn't get any blood on my nice white tux" I said, checking the clothing for any signs of red staining. My hands and fingers had blood on. I grabbed a napkin from one of the tables and wiped my hands with it. I then gave it back to the diner that was using it. "Here, no extra charge" I laughed.
"What are we gonna do with all of these losers, Mistah J?" Harley asked.
"Not my problem" I said, walking out of the restaurant. I dropped a small object full of laughing gas on my way out. Harley followed behind and shut the door behind her...exposing the remaining diners to uncontrollable laughter for several minutes. Giving us both enough time to escape.
"Now that was fun, wasn't it?" I asked, looking at Harley.
"Wasn't as romantic as I was expecting though..."
"Oh, but the night is still young! I've got plenty more things planned for us"
"Such as?" she asked in anticipation.
"You of all people should know that spoiling the surprise is like spoiling the joke, and spoiling something makes it less exciting. Remember that present I gave you for your birthday? If I told you I was going to buy you a new baseball bat then you wouldn't appreciate it as much. And you know I'm right, that's why you've got that adorable little frown on your face." I explained.
"That's not why I have a frown on my face..." Harley said, looking nervously through the restaurant window. "What happened to them, Mistah J?" she asked, staring through the window in horror. Not because of what happened, but because of the unexpected. Harley knew... I knew that it was just a joke.
I looked through the window. The diners... they were all dead. Now, OK that wasn't actually me this time...the laughing gas, that just makes them laugh...you know...it just makes them feel like they're having a really good time? "Why are you unhappy about the deaths of some snobby diners?" I asked. Though I did want them to suffer...I didn't plan to kill these people. Now the joke is ruined, it's ruined and it's all someone's fault. I don't know who to blame, I can't blame Harley...for once.
Unless I planned to kill these diners without actually thinking about planning to kill these diners. So maybe I was thinking to kill these diners and then plan my escape and then end up killing these diners anyway?
For fun, I hope. That's my main motive, fun...enjoyment...jokes.
But why did I care about if I just killed a load of diners? A load of useless, self-assured people who would probably sell their own children to make some quick cash. Why...would...I...The Joker...care about anything...anyone. Other than myself?
Fuck...I think I'm going soft. I knew just slitting their throats wouldn't be enough, and yet when I take it further it's like a brick wall appears out of nowhere and gives me a guilty conscience. This wasn't the first time I've felt it either, when I hurt Harley...nearly killed her, left her to die. I felt the same...guilt. Me... feeling guilty...that's just a crime in itself.
"What's wrong, puddin?" she asked, looking at my mental breakdown with concern. "Puddin?" she repeated, gently placing her hand on my shoulder.
Her words echoed into my brain but didn't register, her sweetness fell flat on my ears.
"Nothing...I'm...I'm fine." I reassured her, though in myself I knew I wasn't fine. Maybe I should talk to Harley about it, after all she was my therapist. I produced a large heart-felt sigh. "Can I...talk with you?" I asked sadly.
"You can tell me anything, puddin. You know that." she comforted me.
"This 'Suicide Squad' you mentioned...the thought of you being in it, it's messing me up. It's really playing on my mind...I can't have you risking your life to get rid of your prison sentence." I explained, looking into her eyes with deep concern. "I feel remorse...pain... sadness. I now realize that I do care about you. Your life means something to me, Harley." I touched her hand, pressing it up against my chest. "I will take the pain for what you've done, you will not rot in prison or die young. I promise you that."
"What? Mistah J...you're never like this...why are you behaving this way?"
"You're the doctor...you tell me."
"But I'm not a doctor anymore...you changed me. You made me like this."
"You're still Harleen and you will always be... Harleen Quinzel."
"Please...don't do this!" she hugged me despairingly, dragging my hands around her waist as she squeezed my body tightly.
"I'm sorry...but knowing that you're associated with other criminals in an attempt to risk your own life, that's too much of a burden on my shoulders." I pulled away from her affection reluctantly. I stepped inside the car, closing and locking the doors to prevent her from trying to stop me. I lowered the car window nearest to the driver's seat. "I'm putting an end to this madness. Goodbye, Harley" I raised the window back up.
"NO!" she shouted, banging on the window furiously and attempting to open the car door. I simply looked at her through the tinted window, giving her one final reassuring smile before driving off.
Leaving her, once again with utter regret.
I'll find and kill this entire 'Suicide Squad.' As well as anyone associated with them, government officials included. Harley won't join forces with them again, not if I have anything to say about it. If I find out she's been requested for another mission... I will personally make sure that they fail their objectives.
I'm mostly sad, but also frustrated that she's been forced to partake in suicidal missions just to get out of death row. Death row is the final strike, there are no more chances after being transferred...believe me, I know. Taking on these missions in exchange for a 'pardon' on her prison sentence is not worth the risk...or the reward.
From what I know so far...these missions are designed to be high-risk and 'suicidal'. Sometimes...not all of the members in the squad come out alive. They're always swapping the dead for fresh meat. Harley Quinn is not fresh meat, and she will certainly not be replaced.
I'd rather die than let Harley spend another minute with those criminals.
And if the time comes to it, I'll gladly do it myself.