The Last Laugh

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN BATMAN, THE JOKER, HARLEY QUINN OR ANY OTHER BATMAN CHARACTERS MENTIONED. SOME SCENES FROM MOVIE, OR TRIED TO BE FROM MOVIE. NOT MINE.

"I, I need, I need, the bank code…" Harley mumbled to herself, tapping her finger impatiently on the counter. "Anyone? Anybody know it?"

She waltzed around the bank, twirling and spinning and humming as if everything was normal and happy. She spun around a couple of customers, and they cringed away from her. She stopped what she was doing and looked at them, offended.

"Don't be afraid of ME!" she told them in a disgustingly sweet voice, and then her voice darkened. "There is much worse out there."

"You're no better than the Joker," a man mumbled.

Harley grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him forward.

"What was that?" she demanded severely, taking out a small switch-blade and holding it up to the side of his face. Her face was vicious. "The Joker?"

He whimpered and closed his eyes.

"That's what I thought," she said brightly, and threw him to the ground.

All around her, thugs were waiting around with guns in their hands, getting dangerously close to the bank customers. Each of them had the same, plain white mask on and each of them were wearing different type of jester hats. Some green, some red, some red and green, some black, some red and black. All different. Yet all the same.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," Harley snarled, glaring at the man who had spoken. "I REALLY need that bank code! I kinda wanna get the vault open with having to blow it up. But, if worse comes to worse…"

She looked around politely, but no one stepped forward. Her make-uped face frowned.

"Alright, then," she began with a sigh. "I guess I'm going to have to take drastic measures."

Harley's costume was a bit different than it was before. It looked darker, and raggedy. Her hat was no longer attached to the costume, but cut it off and sewed into a new separate hat. A few strands of her blond hair dangled down, some getting caught in her dry, cracked make-up. This was a new Harley.

She walked over to one of her thugs, the biggest of them all, and reached into his bag. She pulled out two things that no one could see, and hid them behind her back. She turned to face her captive audience again.

"Now," she began, wrinkling her nose as if she had a sneeze. "In each of my hands, I have a grenade."

She pulled them out from behind her and some of the women shrieked.

"One is real," Harley continued. "One is fake. But which one? OOoooOOooooo! I need a volunteer! How about…" she scanned the viewers and stopped on a young man, about the age of thirty. "You sir!"

She grabbed him by his collar and pulled her to the center of the bank.

"I'm gonna put these behind my back. Your job is to pick which one you think is the fake bomb. You say either left or right, and whichever one you pick, I open it and throw it to the ground. If it's the fake one, nothing will happen. But if it's the real one…KA-BOOM!"

She giggled maniacally and twirled around the man who looked nauseous.

The bank was large and extremely fancy, one of those ones that cost Gotham a hefty price. The marbled floor was stained with blood, the black granite counters were surrounded by thugs, and the customers were all gathered in a corner, cowering before this new threat.

"You'll kill us all, including yourself!" the man pointed out. He swallowed.

"Only if you choose the right one," she said, giggling again. "Isn't it exciting?"

"You're insane," he said quietly. She stopped spinning and stared at him.

"Aren't we all?"

Police sirens began ringing through the air.

"Tick, tock, tick, tock," Harley rang, looking at the man expectantly. "You only got one minute to save the bank!"

"Um, I uh, pick you're la-righ-la," he stuttered fearfully, not knowing what to pick. He was shaking slightly, and perspiring like a waterfall.

"The fate of this bank lies on your shoulders," She sang. "If you pick wrong, you and only you are responsible for all of these people's deaths."

The man was terrified.

"If you don't pick in the next thirty seconds," Harley said impatiently. "I drop them both."

The man was unsure. Harley rolled her eyes and sighed, handing the two grenades to one of her thugs. She marched over to the speculators and grabbed a young, blond woman. She screamed as Harley pulled her away. Harley yanked her to her side and pulled out her switch-blade. She put it to the young porcelain lady's face.

"Choose," she threatened. "Or every second you make me wait, she gets a little nick on her pretty face. And after your fifteen seconds are up, I drop them both."

He swallowed, and she cut the side of her face. The lady screamed and covered her face. Harley cut the side of her arm next, then looked at the man with a disgusting smile on her face.

"Al-alright!" he stuttered. "I pick the-the la-left hand."

Harley squealed and clapped. "It's about time!"

She threw the lady to the ground and took back the grenades, holding out the one in her left. She carefully pulled out the little hoop. Harley threw it on the floor and stared at it excitedly, as if she couldn't wait to see if the man had chosen wisely.

The seconds ticked by and nothing happened. The customers began to sigh in relief, when a small 'BANG' rang through the air, causing all of them to jump and scream. Out of the grenade was a little flag that read, 'bang' in bright red, yellow and orange colors.

Harley jumped up and down happily.

"Wasn't that a FUN game?" she hollered exuberantly and bounced on her heels. Her smile disappeared, and she turned towards the terrified civilians. "Now that you understand how dangerous I can be, I suggest someone tells me the bank code. If not, I could just drop this other bomb-"

"Ok!" a man yelled, cutting her off. He stepped forward out of the crowd. His nametag read: Thomas James, Bank Manager.

"Brilliant! Come here, Tommy," she commanded, and he took a small step closer.

She rolled her eyes and stood next to him, putting her arm in-between his.

"So tell me!"

"It's 5483306," he answered gravely, looking at her painfully.

"Lovely!" she shouted and threw him against the wall. "Harris, go type it in."

A thug with a green and red hat on nodded and went to touch the vault, but ended up getting shocked. He fell to the floor and began shaking spastically. Harley smiled and turned towards the bank manager.

"Why didn't you tell me about that, Tommy?" she asked politely, and grabbed him by his hair and pulled it up.

"I've known people like you," she began to tell him. "Cowards. The lot of them. Hid behind the rest. You hid behind these poor defenseless people this whole time and only NOW did you step forward. Tsk, tsk! That's pretty cold. Now, I suggest that you shut down that electric barrier from the vault."

He winced and reached into his pocket, taking out some sort of remote. He pressed it.

"It's, ah, it's off…" he mumbled. She smiled and threw him on the ground once again.

"Thank you," she sang in a high-pitched voice. Harley walked over to the vault and typed the code in. The door swung open. She smiled a Cheshire-cat smile.

"Just so there are no surprises," she said, and pulled the blond woman from before with her into the vault. "She'll be the one to suffer. Oh! And by the way, I already knew the code. Thanks for playing."

The two went into the vault, the blond woman first and then Harley herself. The tension in the air was thick while the customers waited impatiently. No one came out. The clock struck 12 o'clock noon, and the thugs looked at each other. The biggest thug walked over to the small crowd of bank customers and grabbed a random man and roughly dragged him with him towards the door, pointing a gun to his head. One by one, the men left, and the customers inside didn't see him again. They heard a car start and then drive away. The ones that were left, only the bank manager, the man, and two women, looked at each other uncertainly. Why had they left their leader behind? What happened to the other woman?

The police marched inside, guns at the ready in case it was a trap. Only five SWAT members came inside, and they immediately ran to the hostages. They began escorting them out of the building.

"She's inside the vault!" Thomas cried out as he was towed towards the door. Three of them men went inside, and came out with two people. Harley tied up, and the blond woman crying into her hands hysterically. Harley was tied with a thick rope and her mouth was covered with duct tape. Her green eyes stared out wildly in horror, most likely due to the fact that they had actually caught her. They brought woman carefully to the ambulance.

The scene was surrounded by cop cars and ambulances. Hostages were being checked on, and Harley was being taken to a near-by police car.

"We caught her, Commissioner," one of the cops reported outside, talking to the through a walkie-talkie.

"Good," he answered from the other end. "Maybe now we can catch The Joker. Good work boys. Bring her to Arkham. I'll talk to her there."

"Yessir," the officer said, and shoved the still tied-up Harley roughly into a police car. You could hear her panicked screams through the duct tape.

The blond woman sat on the edge of the ambulance, her face covered with tears.

"It's ok Miss…?" the ambulance personnel reassured her.

"Take, Miss Take," she managed to choke out, rubbing her blue, puffy eyes.

"Miss Take, then," he said with a charming smile. "Would you like to hop inside and I'll drive you to the hospital?"

She was thoughtful for a moment, and she hiccupped a couple of times.

"No," she said darkly. "I think I have a better idea."

She pulled out a gun and pointed it at his forehead. The man swallowed and licked his lips.

"Now Miss Take-" he began, but was cut off.

"I believe YOU'VE made a mistake, bub," she said, and then giggled maniacally. "Now get in your seat and drive. I'll tell you where to go."

The man did as he was commanded, with the gun still pointed at his head. He managed to remain composed.

"That was a very good trick, Ms. Quinzel," he said to her nervously as he pulled inconspicuously out of the bank driveway. None of the other policemen noticed a thing.

"Aw shucks, you're making me blush!" she told him and giggled again. "Turn left here."

As the driver turned, he continued talking. "Had us all fooled. But a quick question. You didn't take any money. All you did was create a mess and kidnap two people. What was the point of it all?"

"Exactly!" she responded, and smiled, not saying another word.

He was silently for a few moments. The car stopped at a red light.

"So you switched places with her in the bank vault?"

"Yep," she answered in a bored tone. "Right."

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" he asked shakily.

She looked uncertain and bit her lip. She shrugged and said, "Gee, I don't know. Probably."

"I see," he continued solemnly. "I heard you used to be a doctor. What happened?"

"The Joker happened," she answered grumpily, folding her arms, but still keeping the gun trained on him.

"You hate him now?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he created me," she sad sadly. "Pull over here, this is where we get off. It was nice talking to you!"

She brought the gun closer to his head, kissed him on the cheek, and pulled the trigger all just as the car stopped outside an old abandoned apartment building.