just_joking (just_joking) wrote in newalliance, @ 2012-04-10 00:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | harley quinn, joker |
Who: The Joker & Harley Quinn
NPCs: Joker-Goons, Patent Clerks, G Carl Francis
Where: Gotham Patent Office
When: 04/10/12
What: The Joker unleashes his most diabolical scheme yet!
Rating: PGish?
The stuffy little office sat on the corner of a nondescript building and did its best to not draw any attention to itself. That was the beauty of government buildings; the uniformity and bland decoration allowed them to be easily overlooked. Bland and uniform was not something the Joker was known for. So when the door to the U.S. Patent office opened, it was to the fan fare of several armed henchmen, the clown himself and his gal Friday.
For a moment there was a look of confusion on the office worker's face. It wasn't until they saw him that the screams began. Standing easily a head taller than most of his thugs, Joker strolled forward to move among the denziens of the federal system. Fear filled eyes watched him as the thugs moved into place. Weapons of all shapes and sizes pointed at the gathered people as the clown prince moved toward the back of the office.
His purple wingtips stopped at a large wooden desk where a tubby little man sat. The office drone had a receding hairline and thick rimmed glasses. Joker pulled back a chair with flourish and sat himself down. Idly he picked up the plaque on the desk that read G. Carl Francis. "Well then, Mr Francis." Joker began in a voice thick as honey but laced with something deadly. He tossed the name plate behind him. "My name is The Joker. I'm here to apply for a new patent."
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The trip on the elevator had left Harley's head bobbing to the dulcet beats of the muzak, the over-sized mallet on her shoulder swaying along. When the doors dinged open, she was a step behind her man, with her head still bobbing. The clowns stayed a few paces back and one by one, began to split off to ensure that no one was grabbing for phones or trying to make a quick escape.
Harley herself had even broken away to smash an in-use phone. "You're gonna miss all the fun if you're talkin'," she chastised the middle-aged brunette who was on the verge of tears. Harley simply pat her on the head and moved to catch up with the Joker.
Mr. Francis had clearly wet himself and he stared in abject horror at the clown prince before him. When he refused to speak, Harley snuck up behind him and thwacked the back of his head. It was then he noticed her he had been tied to the chair, with only his arms below the elbows free to work.
"It's rude to stare, Mr. Francis," Harley chastised in a matter-of-fact tone. "Mistah J is a client! So treat him like one," she finished in a deep, almost menacing tone that broke with a giggle.
"Uh..." Mr. Francis blinked a few times and tried to focus. He was certain he was going to die. "A patent? For what?" he managed, trying his best to sound polite.
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The Joker's dark and malevolent eyes moved from the sweaty dome of Mr. Francis to the makeup covered face of Harley. He regarded her separately for a moment before giving her a tight lipped smile. Evidently he approved of her additions to the dialog.
As soon as Francis spoke up he had the full attention of the clown once more. "Ah!" Joker said and set his walking stick (a length of pipe) against the desk and held aloft a single finger. "Surely you've seen the news, my good man!" Opening the coat of his suit, Joker checked his inside pockets. A set of playing cards fell out and scattered all over the floor. "Now where did I put it.."
One of the hench men appeared at his side and held out a grocery bag. "Ah, thank you Chuckles." Joker's mouth quirked in a little smirk and he tipped the bag over. A dozen or so of the so called Joker-Fish flooped out onto the polished wood. "My Joker-Fish have been all the rage lately. And since these delightful little critters bear my iconic image, I figured it was time to protect my interests." The Joker's grin grew and split his features. A deep rolling laugh bubbled out.
"So what do I need to do? Some paperwork? Hmm? All in triplicate I assume? And they say I'm cruel." Joker looked to his henchmen, "Take a note, boys. Uncle Sam is the real expert." The clown shuffled some papers around and searched for a pen. "Harley! Pen!" The Joker held out a hand. "Now, where do I sign?" Again he turned that inhuman grin on Francis.
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Mr. Francis was completely unaware of the lithe woman hanging over his shoulders and patting his balding head to encourage him to keep speaking. All he knew was that the Joker was standing before him and all he was being asked to do is his job. As the Joker began to search his person, the man cringed and awaited the long fingers of death to reach out and take him.
Instead, he was met with the overpowering stench of day-old fish. He peeked through one eye and then the other to stared at the multi-colored, grinning fish and felt the bile rise in his throat. "Joker-Fish?" he asked meekly.
Harley's hand dipped into his pocket and removed a wood-finished pen from his breast pocket and bounded over to the Joker, extending the pen in a ceremonious fashion. She then attached herself to his side and beamed at Mr. Francis, their soon-to-be hero.
Mr. Francis realized it was now his turn to speak and his face went pale. "Y-you can't-" he paused to clear his throat, no matter how poor the timing. "Fish are a natural resource. You can't patent them....Mister Joker. I'm sorry."
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The corner of the psychopath's mouth quirked in a smile as Harley provided him with a pen. Long, strong fingers removed the cap to an old fashion fountain pen and he spun it idly through his digits. At the words of denial from the formidable Mr Francis, the Joker quirked a brow. He turned to regard Harley with an expression that clearly stated "He must be joking."
Those eyes turned once more to G. Carl and a flash of anger appeared. "You must be joking." Joker deadpanned. Soon he was on his feet, palms slamming flat against the desk. "Oh come on, Frankie. You wouldn't kid a Kidder, now would you?" The words were playful but held a dangerous edge to them.
The clown stalked his way around the desk, that mocking tone creeping back into his voice. "Of course not. The only joke about this guy is that tie." The madman stood behind Francis and his fingers drummed slowly on the faux leather of his chair. Long limbs bent to let the clown stoop lower, his face inches from the patent clerk's. "Once again the rules seem to be dead set against me. " Leather clad fingers walked along Francis' shoulders. Playfully they flicked the clerks nose.
"Well boys, if Mister Francis won't help us then I guess we're just out of luck." The last five words were said with just the slightest hint of indignation. "Come now Harley." The clown grabbed his walking stick and wrapped an arm around his Harley. He lead them away before he stopped, the index finger of his hand raising in a "wait a minute" gesture.
"You know something, pookie?" He turned to regard Harley. "Wouldn't he be just perfect? Joker asked with a glance back to the poor Mr. Francis.
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Harley shook her head, looking disappointed in the word of Mr. Francis, but unlike the Joker, she did not lose her temper. She simply stepped back and watched the scene unravel. If Mr. Francis wasn't careful, he was going to end up with a mouthful of un-patened Joker-Fish.
Mr. Francis' eyes slammed shut and a whimper of fear escaped him. This was it, this was how he died; at work with soiled pants and a knife in his throat. What would his wife and kids think? He struggled to open his eyes and noticed that the Joker and his crew were now in front of him, heading to the elevator and he expelled a sigh.
Harley's body had curved into Joker's side where it belonged and her head was on his shoulder. Her arms had wrapped around his, petting the long, purple sleeve in a consoling manner. His question brought her head up and she turned to face him, her mouth twisting thoughtfully. "Ya know somethin', Mistah J? He would!" She spun around and held her hands up, capturing Mr. Francis between the frame of her thumbs and index fingers. "A new wardrobe and some powder and he'll be perfect!"
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At Harley's movement's, Joker slid in behind her. Dark green hair obscured his face from view but his dark malevolent eyes peered over her shoulder. His gaze was lined up perfectly to see through the faux lens she created. She was the director of photography on their little fan film after all. "That he would!" The Joker's laugh tore its way from his innards and permeated the room.
The Joker snapped his fingers as if he'd discovered something and the laughter stopped instantly. "Boys!" He called back to their henchmen who stood milling about. "Why didn't you tell us there was such talent here among the mindless denizens of the Government?" The tone was scolding and quickly rolled out into more uncontrollable laughter.
"Congrats Carl! You get your very own entourage. Gentlemen.. help him to his trailer." Joker laughed once more and turned on a dime, his coat tails flaring out. He offered an arm to Harley and called out "The show much go on after all!"