WHO: Aaron and Harper WHAT: They're taking over a club for funsies. WHERE: Upper East side, Manhattan WHEN: Forward dated to Thursday night. WARNINGS: It's Joker and Harley Quinn. I feel like you know what you're getting into reading their stuff.
Aaron wasn't a person who lacked for money even in the broad sense of the term. His family was a wealthy one, politically connected, and just as deranged as he was. Well...maybe not quite the level he was at. His family did evil things to better themselves, but he did bad things for the fun and the chaos of it. There was something about fear that was intoxicating. It wasn't even the death part that he particularly liked, but the parts leading up to that very moment before their light was snuffed out. Some people begged. Some people tried to give other people up for their own lives. Whatever their response was, it was always fun.
But regardless, Aaron was wealthy. He didn't particularly need a new nightclub for anything. Sure, nightclubs were notorious for being great business in the city, and if he owned one he'd be raking in even more money than he had or needed. But that wasn't why he was at Marquee right then with Harper and a couple of their associates. He just wanted the thrill of taking something so important from somebody else, even if it would be temporary. Even more than that, though, he wanted to cause chaos in the crowded club to leave a message for the merry band of misfit superheroes. When they were done there, there would be no doubt who was responsible for the carnage.
He sat at one of the tables in the shadows, sipping on a glass of whiskey while he diligently watched to get a feel for the place. He was chaotic and violent, but he wasn't stupid. It wouldn't do to start a firefight in the middle of a place he was trying to take over if the guy who owned it wasn't amongst the crowd. Usually they made their way out eventually; the men who owned nightclubs were notoriously egotistical and needed to walk in the crowd, usually trying to impress beautiful women and businessmen alike. He knew the look, and that was exactly what he was looking for. Maybe he'd kill him. Maybe he'd just make him wet his pants. That part he'd leave up to the moment and whichever one felt right.
"It's so rude to keep his customers waiting," He sighed dramatically when he realized the man still hadn't come out yet. A woman in short shorts and a name tag that read "Karen" on it came over to collect their empty glasses. She was full of smiles and politeness, hoping to earn a hefty tip to add to the jar for the night. He didn't seem to see her, though, with his arm around Harper as he finally saw the man who was his target for the night. "Finally, I was getting bored with the cocktails. Let's go start some trouble, love!" He pulled a pistol out of the inside of his jacket and fired a bullet straight into the waitress's forehead. She was dead before she hit the floor, and the reaction was instantaneous: people were screaming and trampling over each other for the exits.
"I love the smell of panic in the evening! Whooooo wants to have some fun?!"