2013.04.16 - Setting the Stage

~Well I don't know why I came here tonight~
Gotham City is known for many things. Being a hive of scum and villainy, cornering the market on the insane-but-themed-gang sector, and having a ready availability of industrial space. It is from one of those abandoned waterfront lots that the music spills out this sleepy Sunday afternoon. 
~I got the feeling that something ain't right~
~I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair~
~And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs~
Harley has done up the warehouse right! The gang of a half dozen goons she's hired on short notice have crudely thrown together comfortable sleeping arrangements, and a half-dismantled juggernaut takes pride of place in the center of the warehouse. There, most of the gang are hammering away, trying to get it back into some semblance of working order. Harley, of course, is dancing around whilst everyone else works, humming along to the music which, inside, is LOUD, pounding out from a number of speakers set up to help motivate the team. 
"You're doin' a GREAT job fellas! Jus' keep it up, this'll be our big act! Our numbah one spot at the top of the charts, you mark my woids!" 
~Clowns to the left of me~
~Jokers to the right!~
~Here I am, stuck in the middle with you~
"You got any idea what this's all about, Carl?" Asks one burly man, wiping his brow down with an oil-stained handkerchief. "Ain't got a clue." His friend replies, "I'm just glad she ain't makin' us wear the makeup indoors no more."
 
Abruptly, there's a scream, and one of the rent-a-thugs goes flying out from a dark corner, and goes /through/ a pile of construction equipment. 
"Ok, now, you've done /two/ things that piss me off," a man's voice remarks. Clad in red and black, and sporting just a ludicrous number of firearms, Deadpool steps into the light, giving the guy a casual kick as he passes. "First, you started remodelling one of my favorite safe houses. I was gonna hang posters and get a little fridge and I was thinking, a bay window, like, here." He stands with arms out, framing a window against the south wall. "Y'know. Let the light in." Wait, do we want south facing? Won't that be too bright? No, you want that for more natural sunlight. "It's a feng shui thing, I think. Right?" Deadpool says aloud. But where do we put the TV set? 
"Well, there's room in that corner," Deadpool points. 
He turns around. "Second- and worstlier- now I've got Stealers Wheel's stuck in my head. That's as bad as getting ABBA in your ear. Maybe if I hum something?" Nanananananananananana BAAATMAN! "Nanananananananananana BAAAT MAN. Batman, batman, BATMAN...." he sings. Badly.
When the thug screams, Harley spins on the spot, and tug an uzi from the back of her outfit. The automatic weapon sweeps, and-- then she hears the voice. It isn't her favoritest voice in all the world, but it is definitely up there! 
"Oh, Larry, stop layin' around on thah job, willya?" 
The weapon is spun, and then tucked back down into her belt as Harley capers towards Deadpool. Larry, doesn't look like he's getting up, but that doesn't seem to concern Harley too much, even if the rest of the 'gang' are now looking between their stricken ally and the man who - at best - knocked him out cold.
"There's my second favorite mouth!" She exclaims, moving to wrap her arms around Deadpool's shoulders, "Can ya believe, I didn't even know this was wannah your pads? But its okay! I know you'd want your gal pal Harl to give it a woman's touch." 
She's all beaming and smiles, up until The Name is said, and then she hisses, "Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh! Don' say that name! I swear, he's like freakin' Candle Jah..." She coughs, "Say it too much, an' he'll come down outta nowhere to ruin all the fun!" 
The thugs are looking distinctly uncomfortable, between the violence and Harley's apparent good cheer - always something to be concerned about - they really don't know what to do. Luckily, Harley is clearly one of the world's best bosses, as she suddenly rounds on them, bellowing, "BACK TA WORK YA BUMS, I AIN'T PAYIN' YA TA SLAHCK OFF ALL DAY!" 
Naturally, one of them is contractually obligated to complain 'ain't payin' us at all yet grumble grumble'.
 
Deadpool picks Harley up under her arms and tosses her effortlessly about ten feet into the air. "Harleysquibbles! How's my girl? I can forgive you anything, you know I can't stay mad at ya. And the /last/ time I went a few rounds with the Bat, I sent him running. Kicked his stupid BatButt!" Will you /catch/ her already? Not to worry, Yellow Voice. It's comic-book hangtime! 
Deadpool catches Harley like they were both cheerleaders or something, then pops her back onto her feet with an easy pop of his arms. "So, what's the haps, Harls?" he asks, slinging an arm over her tiny shoulders. "Are we thinking, partial remodel, or do we just take it down to studs and start all over?" he asks, panning his arm across the room.
"Wheeeeee!" 
Harley completes a series of graceful flips after being tossed into the air, and still manages to come down perfectly for being caught. Set back down, the girl laughs, only for the cheery sound to die in her throat as he makes the mistake of asking that question. 
With all the emotional stability of a lemming, Harley's tears come thick and fast, "OOOOOOH, DEAAAAAAAADPOOOOOOOOOOOL!" She wails, tears streaking her makeup pretty much instantaneously - just one downside of this new preppy look compared with the old classics. 
"Its TERRIBLE, Mistah Jay, he's, he's, gone missin'! I'm so WORRIED about him, all alone out there, all scared and lonely without his Harley to keep him warm an' cook his meals an' cut up his snitches! Boo hoo hoo!"
 
"Aww, don't cry, Harley," Deadpool croons. He produces a ragged piece of cloth and daps at her face, then squiggles it up against her nose. "Blow," he consoles her. 
He tosses the expended hanky at someone. "Now, c'mon," he soothes. "Y'know Joker- he's my bro." He bounces a fist off his thick chest. "But a bro gotta go solo sometimes. I bet he's sitting somewhere, cackling like a madman and plotting up some crazy scheme that'll have us stealing something for no reason, and blowing stuff up, and making the Batdude go all 'I'M BATMAN' and try to beat answers out of me, because how funny would that be?"
PFFTBBBHCK.
It doesn't matter who you are, there's not a person alive who can make blowing their nose sound cute, and Harley is no exception. The unfortunate goon flails and falls over in the background with a handkerchief attached to his face, but Harley seems to be cheering up. 
"That would be funny." Harley sniggers at the mental image, "But... but, I dunno. Gotham's gettin' so... comfy! Like they've forgotten whose really in charge 'round here! So, /I'm/ gonna step up to the plate!" 
The deranged woman bounces away from Deadpool's side, and kicks an aluminium baseball bat up off the ground, into her hand. "I'm gonna prove I can hit it right outta the park, then Mistah Jay will HAVE to come back to me, won't he? I bet he'll bring flowers, and maybe even a cake! We could have a PARTY!"
 
Party? "Yes, a party!" Deadpool reaches into his personal hammerspace and produces three grenades, and with a flick of his wrist, starts juggling them at Harley. "Hey, it can't hurt! And I haven't blown up a building in FOREVER AGO." He sighs melodramatically. We blew up a building last week, dude. "Yeah, a WHOLE WEEK ago," Deadpool snarls to himself. "That was, like, forever! Oooh, and I have some C4, and we can whip up a few batches of ammonia explosives... it'd be like that movie, with Heath Ledger! And we could get like, um, some scrubs, and hold an entire city hostage! HEY! I just had a great idea!" He holds up a finger. "Let's hold Gotham hostage? Or wait, what was your thing?" he peers at her.
Grenades! Harley loves grenades, and her eyes light up at the juggling. Its a beautiful show! And she grins like a loon. Well. She smiles, anyway, the loon part is really to be taken for granted. 
"Blek, Heath Ledger? You've got some TERRIBLE taste, Dee Pee." 
The slugger is slung up onto her shoulder, and her smile becomes much more, sinister. "We're gonna put on a show! The greatest show on Earth! With motorcycles, and animal tricks, and yeah, even FIREWORKS! We're gonna turn Gotham inta the world's biggest Big Top! An' when everyone is screamin' for more..." 
Her voice drops an octave, "Or jus' /screamin'/, I KNOW that that's when my puddin' will come out. Because there's only ONE clown in Gotham, an' he can't resist a show!"
 
"Na na nananana," Deadpool sings, echoing the Wringling Brothers song. "Well, you know I'm always good for a party. Is this going to be one of those, like, dramatic things, where some noble hero is torn between doing what's right and doing what's necessary? Or do we just, y'know, wanna set everything on fire and watch it burn?" Deadpool inquires, sounding curious. "And catering? I know a GREAT Meheecan place for catering. Oooh, now I want chalupas." He catches the grenades in his hand and tucks them back wherever he seems to produce his endless assortment of firearms and explosives from. "Are we smart enough for that?" he asks them both. I'm not. I am, but you never listen to me anyway. "Other, other voice says he's got it covered, but I don't trust that guy. He's nuts. Talks to himself," Deadpool theatrically asides to Harley. What... why are you doing a comic aside? I'm in your head. I can perceive everything you can. So can I, but you don't hear me going on about it. "Shuttup! It's bad enough that you keep delivering all this commentary no one cares about," Deadpool demands. You're the one who brought up catering! Now /I/ want chalupas.
The unfortunate soul who had been tossed clean through the construction equipment groans and starts to sit up, only to be beaned straight between the eyes by a carelessly flung baseball bat. Harley stretching up, up, up as she considers the mad merc's words. 
"Are WE smart enough?" She asks, "I'm a freakin' genius, Dee Pee! Don't sweat the small stuff!" She laughs, turning on her heel. "We can get all the chalupas you want when its over! An' of COURSE we'll build up to somethin' nice an' big. Test the waters, make things a little more serious, and then, BOOM!" She jumps up into the air, "The trick'll be knowing just how many places the bat can be in at once, an' bein' in just a couple more!"
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