Why So Serious?

He walked down the empty, dirty alley; keeping his eyes open. He jerked his head to get his green-blond greasy hair out of his line of vision. Keeping his hands in is his pockets, he fingered one of the many knifes he kept in them. He was in an alley outside of a rather shady place; basically a whore house. He smirked to himself. Now who would care if a whore was taken hostage? He pondered to himself.

At the other end of the alley one of these said ‘whores’ was standing on a corner- her corner- waiting for a some pathetic loser to pick her up. Her gray fishnets barely kept in any heat in the Gotham fall cold. She had huge runs in the thigh and knees of the stockings, but she couldn’t afford anymore. Her feet were fashioned with black Granny styled lace-up ankle boots, she was wearing a short leather mini skirt and a lace black long-sleeved shirt, which revealed her fire engine red lace bra. Her black hair hung down to the small of her back in chunky layers, and her bangs swept to the side. Her make-up consisted of heavy black eye-liner and smoky black eye shadow rimming her bright blue eyes. Her pale face was lightly powdered and her lips were a bright red.

She glanced down the alley way and saw a man in a purple trench coat suit ensemble walking curiously toward her. When he was a few paces away, he flipped open a pocket knife and ran it against his grinning lips. As he got closer the girl noticed he had clown make-up on, and he had scars permanently pasting a grin on his face. He licked his lips quickly and gave her a once-over. “Well hello, gorgeous,” he said.

She just stared at him. A mere nod was all she could muster up.

He attempted a frown in her direction. “Scars bother you?” he questioned.

She stared at him. “You want me to lie or you want the truth?”

He smirked, yet again. “Well there’s a question.” He lunged at her and held the pocket knife to her throat. “Try the truth,” he whispered in her ear.

She pressed her neck against the knife. “You think death phases me at all? Take a second and look where I am.” The knife broke the skin and a droplet of blood cascaded down her fair-skinned neck. “And to answer your question, they surprised me at first, but there’s nothing I can’t get used to.”

He laughed, the high-pitched sound echoing through the empty streets. “You’re a trip.”

“I try.” she replied.

“Can I get a name outta you, gorgeous?” he questioned.

“Harley… Well, Harleen Quinzel.”

“Well look at that, that sounds like harlequin.”

“Guess so,” she responded.

“You mind coming with me, Harley?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He cocked his head a bit to the side. “Come to think if it, not really. Now, come on.” He nudged her down the alley, and they continued into the darkness.