Comforting Quinn

As I turned my gaze towards Sionis Industrial, seeing the smoke rising from one of the active furnaces, I remembered watching the news at Batman carried the Joker's body and thinking, "That can't be right, the Joker wouldn't let the Bat kill him..." Indeed, that was a sad day for us all. I used every resource I could get my hands on to learn what happened to Joker. I bribed the cops that I knew would take the money to get access to the autopsy report, I asked questions to Mr. J's people who that damn Bat got locked away.

I wasn't paid nearly enough for my job as a reporter. All the spotlight was on that cheap harlot Vicki Vale. The moronic Gothamites almost never got to see any of my work as a field reporter because Vale was sleeping with Batman and would know where he was going to go after the baddies. Well not anymore. I spent some time at the gym, trying to achieve a physique that most would be envious of. And when I thought I was ready, I asked Vicki out for a professional dinner as colleagues. Though, it wasn't anything so simple as that. When I arrived at her house, she was wearing a rather slutty dress that went down to her calf with a slit almost to that nice, round ass, and that emphasized her modest amount of cleavage. She told me to wait while I grabbed her purse, with such audacity to say it like I was the one who was causing problems. "Trust me Vicki, you won't need your purse tonight." I said in as calm a demeanor as possible. She turned to look at me, only to be knocked down. I tore her dress with little effort and used it to gag and bind her. Before she knew it I had her in the back if the van I rented and we were off to Sionis. I was planning on offering my condolences, my services, and Ms. Vale to the, still mourning, Harley Quinn. As I approached the building, however, three thugs wearing clown makeup approached. I thought of offering Vicki to them in exchange for safe passage, but I don't think Harley would appreciate being given a broken toy.