InsaneJournal

Beware the clown when he comes to town
The Players : The Joker, Harley Quinn, and happy happy people. (Open to anyone who wishes to play with the Joker)
Where : Chicago, IL
When : January 26th, nighttime
Rating : R (violence)
Notes : The Joker and Harley in this borrows from all their predecessors but bows to none of them. (In other words, they are my take on the characters so don’t be surprised if they are a little different.)

A cold crisp clean wind blew through the night, so one could be understandably confused how such a clean breeze found itself lost in a back alley of the large sprawling city. The alley was as dank, decrepit and despair filled as could be found in any large metropolis. Winos lay sprawled unconscious on crushed down cardboard boxes as drug dealers a few feet away plied their trade on the desperate to escape reality. Near the edges of the alley, hookers tried their luck with the lonely and the desperate, while their pimps watched on from the shadows.

Into this perfect picture of urban decay and despair came the strains of music. Music that sounded suspiciously like it came from some broken music box. The individual notes would speed up, slow down, stop and start in a drunken fashion, so much so that was nearly impossible to determine what the tune had originally been but now had a Frankensteinian existence all its own and the tune wasn’t a pleasant one. Several hookers near the entrance to the alley moved further into its dim recesses, risking glares from their pimps as they attempted to escape the ominous sounds.

As the entrance to the alley cleared of its inhabitants, a man appeared in the middle of the street. At first, the denizens’ of the alley mistook the man for another pimp looking for his hooker. After all, he was dressed in the flamboyant style some pimps favored. The man was wearing a large coat that seemed to be made up of multicolored scraps of cloth sewed together. From the glow of the distant street lights and the full moon in the sky it appeared to the onlookers that his hair was colored in a punk style of green with a few braids of different colored hair mixed in to accent the strange style. A large smile in a too pale face sized them up before the man began to move into the alley towards them.
As the man began to stroll casually down the center of the alley, the other hookers, pimps and drug dealers gave way before him and moved further into the alley to stay ahead of him. He wasn’t a particularly dangerous looking individual but the denizens of the alley gave way to him as animals will when they recognize an ‘Alpha’ individual had entered their territory.

Some of the hookers frowned as they noticed the music they had been hearing didn’t increase as the stranger drew near. It was just naturally assumed that the stranger was the source of the music but it appeared they had been wrong.
The man reached about one quarter of the way into the alley before he stopped and frowning glanced over his shoulder at the entrance to the alley.

“Harley.” The man spoke only the one word but while his voice was commanding it still conveyed an not unpleasant tone.

A woman appeared at the entrance of the alley and just as the male had before, took the center of the alley and began to slowly enter the alley. While the man’s pace and demeanor showed no hesitation or lack of resolve, the woman’s showed timidity, nervousness and a desire to be anywhere but there. As she neared the first interloper into the alley, everyone noticed the music they had been hearing increase in volume showing she was indeed the source of the tune. The woman was wearing a long jacket that covered some kind of black and red one piece suit causing more than one pimp to consider trying to woe her way from her current assumed pimp. Short blond hair framed an almost childlike face but was more than offset by the brief flashes of voluptuous curves that were revealed as her hips swayed as she walked and the edges of the jacket flared open and shut.

The man dressed in the multicolored jacket continued to frown at her over his shoulder and once barked only one word. “Sing.”

The woman pulled the sleeve of her jacket back revealing some kind of gauntlet on her arm and pressed a few spots on it. Instantly the drunken music box tune was replaced by a steady drumming beat and something that sounded like horns playing.