Go after Harley

Leaving Penguin to his conquest, you travel back down the the first floor, determined to bring in another name on Cobblepot's hitlist before you rest.

The Lounge's backroom is deserted now, save for Tracey. The Brit's absent-mindedly filing her nails as she leans back, her fishnet-clad legs resting on the tabletop.

"Harley Quinn." You say to her simply.

"What about 'er?" Tracey responds.

"I've got a thing for blondes with amazing legs." You smirk, stroking one of Tracey's. Penguin's lieutenant doesn't seem particularly pleased.

"Look, that touchy-feely shite might make Candy drool, but I don't go in for it. I'm not that type of girl." Tracey says gruffly.

"I don't know, you looked like you were going pretty deep into it with Candy earlier." You chuckle.

"Yeah, well, that was 'cause you were compelling me, innit?" Tracey says defensively. You decide to have a little fun with her.

"Me? I didn't tell you to do anything. You did everything you did to Candy of your own free will." You lie, but for Tracey, it soon becomes the truth. And an embarrassing one at that.

Blushing, the normally tough Londoner sputters out a few justifications and excuses, before trying to change the subject.

"Harley Quinn, yeah? What were you wanting to know about her?" Tracey asks sheepishly. With a sigh, you decide to stop messing with Tracey and get to work.

"Well first of all, I need to know where I can find her." You decide. Honestly, with your powers, that was pretty much the hardest part.

"That's easy. Mental bird like that, she's gonna be right by the Joker's side, ain't she?" Tracey reasons. "Right now, we reckon Joker's gang're holed up in the abandoned Sionis steel mill."

"Interesting. I might swing by there, see if that's the case." You decide. Tracey raises an eyebrow at your recklessness.

"Are you sure? Could be proper dangerous. We're at war with Joker's gang. If you insist on going, you should bring a couple men..." Tracey offers.

"Definitely not." You tell her. "I work better alone."

-

Having taken a taxi as close to the steel mill as you dare, you continue the rest of the way on foot. When it comes into view, you're surprised to see a man in front of a wrought iron gate openly carrying an **** rifle and wearing clown make-up. You guess Gotham's just that kind of place.

"Whoa, lady, you've got about two seconds to turn around before I blow you away!" The thug warns you, pointing his weapon at you.

"Don't shoot!" You blurt as quickly as you possibly can. Just like that, the clown takes his finger off the trigger.

"This the Joker's place?" You ask, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

"Yeah, it is. Whaddaya want?" The heavily armed doorman demands.

"Oh, I don't know. How about save me some time and take me right to your boss." You decide. Unsurprisingly, the Joker's henchman finds the prospect quite agreeable. Hauling open the gate, he escorts you inside, assuring any who find your presence suspicious that you're supposed to be here.

He leads you inside the steel mill, into what would have been the office area, if it were still an industrial building, and not an amateur psychotic fairground.

"Joker's just up ahead." The doorman assures you. Indeed, the sounds you can hear are very reassuring. The creaking of rusty springs, grunting, the mewling of a young woman.

"Ah! That's it, Mistah J!" You hear an unmistakable voice cry out.

Rounding the corner into the Joker's quarters, you find the Clown Prince of Crime, green hair, skin deathly white, dressed in a smart purple suit, sat on a bed, his Queen bouncing on his lap.

Harley Quinn's a little more exposed than her boyfriend, wearing only a bra and a pair of panties in her trademark black and red colour scheme. Contrary to what you were expecting, she's not blonde. Her hair is split in two halves, one pigtail bright red, the other jet black. Every inch of the woman's skin is bleached white, just like the Joker's. It's quite an exotic sight.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Joker says, frustration evident in his voice. "DON'T interrupt my fun!"

Snatching up a revolver from the bedside table, the Joker barely bother to aim it before pulling the trigger. Brains paint the wall.

The doorman crumples next to you. You're glad the bullet didn't hit you, even if that couldn't be said of some of the gore.

"Ha! Ya sure showed him, puddin'!" Harley shrieks. Not perturbed in the slightest by the **** mere feet away from her, if anything, Harley increases the speed with which she bounces on the Joker's cock.

"Well, well, well, who else do we have here?" Joker says, staring over Harley's shoulder at you. "A pleasure to meet you, miss. Care to join us?" He asks, his ruby lips curled into a smile.

You're a little taken aback. Going from **** to propositioning you in under thirty seconds. It seemed the Joker was every bit as insane as his reputation suggested.