2012-12-06 Let's Make a Deal

Amusement Mile. The emptied out carcass of a long abandoned amusement park, and only one of the Joker's many hideouts. Tonight, however, it's where he finds himself along with a pair of hostages. With one final laugh, he steps out of the fun house, two Joker thugs carrying the limp form of Selina back to the empty cages used for the petting zoo.

"I can take the next customer! Number..." he pulls out a clipboard, flipping through several pieces of paper, running his gloved finger along an apparently long list of names, before he calls out, "Two!" He giggles faintly, two more clown faced thugs moving over to the petting zoo cages to retrieve Gordon.

Gordon still has his sling on, which is nice, but the Joker's thugs have redressed him into a corny, over the top police officer's costume, which was likely purchased (or stolen) from a Halloween store during the post-holiday off season. It's cut a bit too tightly and, unfortunately, causes the Commissioner to look like some older playboy who belonged in a gay night club. In addition, they have caked his face with white paint and drawn bright red lipstick across his mouth, which only does so much to help conceal the fresh bruises on his face.

When they grab him from the cage, he gives forth a slight grunt of disapproval, his feet dragging a bit as they carry him out.

The transferring of the two guest stars stirs up a lot of commotion with Bud and Lou, the two hyenas that were brought with for this outing. Good thing there's collars involved! Harley's wearing them. They're both spiked, the bottom one with a ring on the front and an ornate 'J' pendant hanging off of it. So, she's prepared there. Safety first!

"Again, with the catnapping!" she complains with Selina's unconsciousness. "Sleeping people are -much- less fun. You're not asleep now, are ya, sweetie?" she asks Jim Gordon as he's hauled out, even bringing her face in nice and close simply to invade his personal space. And to plant a giant, black-lined kiss upon his pasty white painted cheek with an exaggerated 'Mwah' to match.

Lou takes the opportunity to run circles around the small group, yapping excitedly and pawing at the ground as though a random scrap of meat might suddenly fall out of the Commissioner's pockets.

Today the infamous Harlequin has her traditional big ol' crowbar in one hand, using it more like a cane than a tool or a weapon. Plus, she's got a bulky black flare pistol tucked into her belt. Because ya never know.

"/Taken/?" One word, cold enough to confuse a meteorologist into thinking snow had fallen in July, blasted from one end of a cell to the other. "/Find./ /Him./" He had personally been on his way to Mercy Hospital, for exactly the purpose for which the clown had apparently beaten him to the sucker punch. So to speak. Perhaps literally too. Some of the crew had been dispatched in advance, to prepare the Commissioner for transfer. So when the call came that he was not planning on attending the party that Bane had in mind...

The crew had been recalled almost immediately, all hands on deck finding out one very important little piece of information: Where in Gotham is Jim Gordon? Time was short, as he had made quite clear to the crew, "but an opportunity has arisen all the same." Each word delivered in stern, frigid tones, hard enough to punch a hole through a wall.

SOME TIME LATER

And now the clown was having a little bit of fun. Word of mouth had provided some information, once the news from Arkham had broken out, but it seemed that playing a joke truly was the modus operandi of the recent escapee from the asylum. There was one of those planned for the night's evening from another party, as well, if all went to plan.

Any of the Joker's goons outside would notice that they were about to be joined. Orion had been instructed to take point in the talking, but he was not only armed, if need be, he was also wearing a little protection against that very thing, for those who have a penchant for aiming at the torso.

"We're on the guest list," he informs people cheerfully, holding up an automatic rifle meaningfully. And not being alone in doing so.

It's also a diversion.

As soon as Gordon is dragged into the fun house, Joker enters behind him. "Hello there, Gordon. Nice outfit by the way. Did you pick that out yourself?" Joker pokes him once in the ribs, nodding appreciatively at the man's ge-up. "I like it. It suits you." He chuckles a bit to himself, before he wanders over to a table filled with such bizzare things as a bloody rubber chicken. "Now, this is going to hurt, but if you give me the information I'm looking for, it'll end a lot quicker." He scoops up the chicken, and wanders over to Gordon, staring him right in the eye, a hard glint to his look.

"Where are the keys to the secret train Gotham's finest use to get to the moon?!" Before Gordon can even answer, he nails him with chicken, which feels like it's been weighted down with a brick. Which of course it has. "WHERE ARE THEY!?"


 * WHAM!*

"Boss! Uh... There's a couple o' guys 'ere. They got guns, but say they wanna' talk to ya'." Joker pauses, and looks over to the goon who brought the message, and he frowns. "Well? What are you standing around for? Invite them to tea you idiot!"

Once inside the fun house, Gordon begins to glare at the Joker while drawing his mouth into a stalwart and defiant line. Stubbornly, he refuses to look at the array of toys, until the Joker starts to demand information from him. "I'm not going to tell you any-"

Words cut off when the first question is asked, and a confused expression comes across his face that is summarily wiped clean with the first strike. With the second, he slumps into the arms of the thug holding him upright, and is forced to spit blood from his mouth to keep from choking on it. "This is a nice place you have here," he growls, with eyes seeking his adversary in an effort to actually egg him on. "I hope you're here when I come back to burn it to the ground." He spits once more in defiance, this one a bit less blood and a bit more saliva.

Where did Joker's clipboard run off to? Harley's got it! It's cool. When the armed men arrive on the scene she twists her face slightly while looking at the pages clipped to that clipboard, holding it upside down as she goes. "Lessee..crazy armed mob, party of --" she trails off, looking up and poking the end of a clickie pen toward each man once, sometimes twice, "--a lot. You're just in time! Right this way." She leads the way, Bud following along in a way that he can both lead and follow, because he's that hyper.

Lou's oh so very happily sitting off to the side between Gordon and the Joker, head shifting back and forth between the two with his tongue hanging out of one side of his maw.

Harley steps inside just in time to hear Gordon's threat. "Hey!" she blurts out, smacking the back of Jim's head with that clipboard. "Don't you talk to Mistah Jay like that! Your tone is -completely- disrespectful, sir." Because it's not what you say, it's how you say it! In a flash she's hiding the clipboard behind herself, rocking back and forth on her feet. "We've got company, pumpkin! Look like your caliber of gentlemen--two-twenty three, if I'm not mistaken."

"Came during the good part, I see" Orion says, almost lazily as he glances at Gordon. He may be wearing a wire, with every word transmitting to its intent listener. "Keep him talking," Bane orders to the small bud in Orion's ear. "But tell him why you're there now."

"Mind if we take him off your hands when you're done?" A lazy question follows Orion's observation of his timing. That piece of equipment in his hand isn't be lazily swung around for show. "Everyone'll be looking for him. /Love/ his outfit, by the way. Pretty damn funny." A moment of study for Gordon's getup, maybe some snickering from Orion, with a bit of (forced) grins from the rest of those with him, who are trying to keep their eyes open for shenanigans all the same.

"Hey so, I've got a proposition, even though I'm repeating myself: We'll take this guy, be out of your way, and we'll even throw the cops a false trail to give you time for your next gag."

And while Orion is chattering away, his employer is... surveying. How to get closer without being seen, but perhaps to make an appearance if necessary. Right now, it may not be possible. Pity. He might have to call it in after all, just to scatter some of them.

"A bit of arsony already, Commish? Wow, I'm good at this." Joker grins broadly at his hostage, before he looks up to Harley and nods a few times, setting his rubber chicken back on the table. He steps up to his Clown Princess, asking, "How do I look? Good? Alright then. Why don't you get the /good/ tea, Harley-poo." He slips past her, out into the open air of the rundown amusement park and looks at Orion and his entourage, smiling in that special horrific kind of way only the Joker, and sometimes Harley can manage. "Now, now, hold onto your pants, and keep your hat on. I never talk business without some tea." He waits for a thug to come along and set down a small table with a ratty pink tablecloth covering it. Saucers and doilies are set down, along with a tea pot and a pair of chipped tea cups.

He sits down, and begins pouring out a cup for each of them, before he smiles, picks up his own, and sips daintly at it, his pinkie extended, steadfastly silent until Orion follows suit.

The clipboard screws up Gordon's hair even more than it already was, and sends the costume-y officer's cap flying. Annoyance flickers across his face, and he turns his head just so to glower at Harley. Following a trail of visual clues, Gordon studies the hyena named Lou with a frown, before turning his head to peer into the darkness so harshly lit by scant few lights outside of the fun house. Words flitter in but he can only hear so much of it, so he chooses instead to try and engage Harley in conversation. "What are you going to do with Selina?" he asks, doing his best to clear the growl from his voice. Perhaps she was less insane than the Joker; perhaps she could be reasoned with? "It's only a matter of time before the hammer comes down here, you know. Are you two ready to deal with that?"

"Now that's a silly question, ya -always- look great! With such a bright, vibrant smile, you could make it rain on the sunniest of days! I love the rain..." Harley says with a wistful sigh while flinging the clipboard off to the side where it skitters across the floor. "Yessah, Jay-man!" comes the quick, eager confirmation, complete with a ramrod-straight spine and a smart salute to the green haired one.

When it's down to the Commissioner, Harley, and two insanely loyal hyenas, she does indeed go for the 'good' tea. Heheh..heheheh..Mwahah--ahem. Here to make sure that Gordon stays put are several masked goons lugging around the usual assortment of black market weapons. It's a strong showing by the Israelies with the 9mm Uzi, America with an assortment of shotguns, and a smattering of virtually every other country out there with their illegally modified Kalashnikov's. Gordon's slightly out of his league tonight.

"Aw, sweetums. That's the fun part. I don't know! He does just love to surprise me so. Among others," she adds while affectionately patting Jim on the head. "Hammer's gotta find the nail, first. C'mon, Buddie baby!"

Lou, on the other hand, sits right in front of Gordon and watches. Staring. Just outside of the reach of his limbs. Good thing he doesn't look overly hungry.

Back to The Joker Harley goes, presenting the tea with an exaggerated flourish of her hands.

With a flicker of a smile, Orion brings his hand up to his head, as though to keep a wig on, more precisely - it's his natural hair. He'll ... sit, but only because the instructions in his ear are saying to. "Don't drink anything, even if he does," the deep voice says into the bud in Orion's ear. "Pretend. Don't spill it, either. That would be rude. No need to tell the others with you. Do compliment him on the tea, however." Were he anyone else, undoubtedly Orion might have been sweating by now, but instead he's taking up the offer of tea, with a gesture to a few others, as though this were a perfectly normal thing to have happen. They, of course, might grumble about it being tea rather than something that involved hard alcohol, but a harsh glare from Orion makes it clear without words that they had best shut up.

The employer, however, is still listening for now.

Joker grins broadly as Orion 'drinks' his tea, and Joker immediately sets his own tea cup down on the table, before he giggles. "Now then... You want my hostage!?" He screams the last at his guest, standing up in a sudden outrage. "Do you know the kind of trouble I went through to get him!? I had to /kill/ two cops!" He pauses a moment, then shrugs, "Actually, that was kinda' fun. HAHahAHAHahaHAhahAHA!" He starts to pace back and forth, before he asks, "Okay, so let's say I'm willing to part with Gordon... What makes you think I'll sell to some chump? That's bad for my reputation, the Joker, handing over his prize to some baby-faced rat with a gun. I mean if your boss won't even show up in person..." He grins, looking to Orion with a steely glint, "Maybe I should just kill all of you and see what he does. hehHeheHEhEhehEHEheH!"

As Harley makes her leave, Gordon follows her with his eyes. "It will," he promises once's she's gone. Even though the daring remark was meant for Harley, it's the Joker's thugs who catch it, and they answer by putting a fist into his stomach.

"Oof!" Gordon doubles over, kept from falling by the hands that hold him up by the underarm. Coming up for air, the Commissioner stares at the clown-i-fied thug who just attacked him. "Just what's in it for you, huh?" he breathes. "How much is he paying you? Is it worth a life in prison, or worse? That's what's coming for you, you know. A life either behind bars, or lying dead in a gr- Oof!"

Gordon slackens upon the second strike, it taking the wind out of him. He hangs there for a moment until the second thug lets him drop into a heap on the dirty ground, where he curls a bit to keep the pain at bay. He ends up lying face flat against the ground, eyes turned toward the open doorway out of the fun house.

What is that sound ringing in his ears? It sounds like music... circus music.

The Joker's screaming voice cuts through, and he pays close attention. What he's able to hear brings a frown to his face. Who would want to trade money for him? Who would want him more than the Joker? He closes his eyes and prays silently to himself as fear finally creeps into his resolute spirit.

Even Harley partakes in the sampling of tea, one leg folded over the other as she daintily holds the cup in thumb and finger and the saucer in her other hand. As she's sipping and the Joker has his little outburst she spits the tea out in a fine mist then throws the cup into another place setting where it shatters, likely also covering one of the armed men in tea. The saucer gets tossed over the back of her shoulder, arms folding in front of herself in irritation before the glassware can break behind her.

Bud merely yips and sits bolt upright, finding all of this to be utterly -hilarious.-

"Not good business practice, failin' ta show up for your own proposition," Harley agrees in Orion's boss not joining their little party. Then, visibly lightening, she adds "Ya know Mistah Jay, we've still got lotsa duct tape lyin' around! Maybe Gordie'd like some friends!

Speaking of 'Gordie,' Lou watches as the man hits the floor, chair and all, snorts once as if to mock the Commissioner, then pads out to rejoin his owner. She seems to be having -way- more fun out there.

A moment of silence, enough for one word to be spoken over the earbud: "Leave." The command was given to Orion. And then: "I will parley with him." The man spoken to repeats that almost verbatim: "He'll be right here," the words aimed at the Joker. Orion also picks up the tea cup and tray to take with him, or will at least try to, holding it in one hand and his weapon in the other.

"A shame you didn't take the offer," Bane's deep voice calls out, the man himself not caring at all whether a turf war will break out if anyone tries to impede him or the few crewmen who come along, also heavily armed. Should any of the Clown's men /think/ about barring his entrance, they'll get gunned down just like that. The clown had made it clear he was going to be... difficult, and so action had finally been taken. It was enough to make a man sigh, having to go through his effort.

"It would have made matters much more convenient for the both of us had you simply agreed," the arriving masked figure continues, with his armed escort in tow - and he does not look or sound amused. Perhaps because his face is concealed from observation in the first case, and because he really is not in the latter.

Assuming that Orion isn't shanked by that point, he'll pass on the teatray, but someone will stand, rather than sit at the table. Unlike the others of his crew, Bane /will/ drink from it. He gave himself a minor injection of Venom just before arriving, just in case there was in fact some sort of toxin to cause problems.

"Is money what you want?" he asks the clown. "Or would you rather have a trade for him?"

"/That's/ better," Joker glees, watching as Bane makes his appearance. "Now you... You look familiar. Don't know from where, but hey, I see a lot of guys in masks. Sometimes you all just... Blend together." He watches Bane drink from the tea, before laughing to himself, and a bit to Harley as well. "Harley baby, what do you think? I mean we do have 'her,' and honestly, I think she's more important to 'him' then 'he' is. If you get my drift... Though, we do have money, and it's not even as if we pay for anything." He scratches his pale chin, before he snaps his fingers, "I've got it! Two of your men, for Gordon. Oh, and a pony!"

"You'd better be careful," wheezes Gordon, still addressing Joker's thugs. "Or he'll trade one of you too."

The remark makes no sense, but it earns him a kick to the back. "Auuugggh!" cries out Gordon, before rolling over and looking up at the ceiling. "Ha... hahaha!" he laughs. "Look at you guys. You're terrified he might give you up! What have you got in for this, anyway? Following a mad-man and his..."

The sound of a cocking pistol fills Jim's ear, and he feels the cold steel of a Beretta Px4 Storm against his temple. This serves to shut him up immediately, but the action is sealed when the thug kneels down closer to Gordon, scowling beneath the painted-on manic laugh that's spread across his cheeks. "One more word, Gordon. One more word."

"A pony? Mmhmm...hmmhmmhmm, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA," Sudden laughter breaks out from the large man that made his appearance. The tea is quite quickly left by the wayside as he all but doubles over from the sudden urge to engage in utter hysteria. The cup is trampled underfoot, mostly from the unexpected and sudden adjustment to his person, and then the mirth subsides, but slowly.

"Amusing," he says, quickly regaining control of himself. "The pony will be delivered within two hours. You may have those two sitting there." That would be the one who got splashed by Harley, and his companion at the table. They're likely having the time of their lives by now, because they've ingested quite a good deal of the tea. After all, if their /boss/ did, they were right to do so... right?

"Would you mind telling him not to damage my merchandise?" he asks, over the sound of dying men's hysterical laughter. Not sounding as if he really cares if the thug pops a cap in Gordon's brain matter. Those covered eyes, however, have turned to regard Gordon - Gordon's immediate captor, more precisely - with an otherwise expressionless gaze.

Harley attempts to do the math. Everyone might want to stand back a little. "But =he= wants you more than 'him,' who -also- wants you but is now wanted by -him- and =him= and maybe all of 'them,'" she declares while wildly motioning to all of Bane's goons, "So if you want 'him' and =him= to go after -him- and 'them' then give 'him' to -him- and 'them' so we can keep 'her' for 'us' and make =him= have to get 'him' and 'her' from -him- and 'us'..!"

By the time she's finished she's got the tip of her tongue hanging out, fingers pointing wildly amidst arms all entwined in front of her, is staring cross-eyed, and has Bud sitting beside her with his nose practically touching her cheek while he stares at her as if to ask 'are you okay?'

Waitaminute. That sounded like a pistol being cocked. Harley disentangles herself and holds one finger up in the 'one moment' gesture, "Pardon me, boys." As she goes back into the building holding the Commissioner she's lifting and dropping the curved end of her crowbar into an open palm, muttering to herself as she goes.

"You leave Mister Commissioner alone!" The sound that follows fails to hold the note of blunt steel connecting with a skull, but there's a definite impact involved.

When Harley steps back out she's shaking her right hand. "I tell ya, that would be a whole lot easier if they made somethin' just for hittin' people in the head with..."

Joker listens to Harley as if she's making absolute sense, before he says, "I like the way your mind works, Harleykins." He turns his gaze on Bane as he laughs, and he starts laughing with him, as if they just shared a joke which is amusing only to the pair of them. He barely even bats an eyelash as Harley clubs Gordon's thug over the head with a crowbar.

Joker then gives the two laughing men a look over, as if they were prize cattle. A gloved finger goes to one of their temples, and he pushes slightly, cackling as the man falls over laughing. "I'll take 'em!" He snaps his fingers, gesturing to Gordon, "Gift wrap him for our guest." At which point he promptly offers his hand to shake on it.

When the thug holding him at gunpoint is assaulted, Gordon makes his move. He rolls his body to the left and reaches out with his good hand, snatching the pistol as its dropped by the thug upon impact. He releases an involuntary groan of pain but muscles through it as he falls down on his be-slinged right arm, and aims the pistol toward one of the Joker's thugs.

Unfortunately, before he can pull the trigger, two more of the goons have stepped out of the shadows. The grapple him and tug him to his feet, just barely keeping his finger off the trigger. The sounds of a scuffle escape from the darkened interior of the fun house, and a few moments later, Gordon is led out, gift-wrapped as promised.

Duct tape is wrapped around his painted face, along with a few long strips wrapped around his torso. The Commissioner's arms are bound against his body, but the left hand, still holding that stolen pistol, is held propped up against his chest, with the barrel pointing right up against the bottom of his chin. The duct tape keeps it held there, and more of that tape keeps his hand wrapped tightly to the weapon's handle. His finger is curled away from the trigger, and it trembles ever so slightly as they lead him out toward those who are gathered outside. His eyes immediately fall upon Bane, and an expression of confusion appears beneath cracked spectacles.

Harley stops outside of the building, turns around, and gives a lovely "Tah-daaah!" with her hands spread wide, one still holding the crowbar, as Gordon is brought forth in his brand new predicament. On his way past she leans in and not so subtly whispers "You can keep that as a present, sweetie. They make -great- stocking stuffers."

Both of Harley's hands go to the crowbar now as she does a little jig back over to the Joker as hough she's dancing on stage with a cane in hand, all that's missing is the tophat and tailcoat. The hooked end neatly catches one of his shoulders, which she then pulls on to draw the two of them together side to side with enough bravado to get a tiny squeak out of her. "Looks like everyone gets to go home happy tonight! Even the big fella in the hood. Nice to meetcha! I'm Harley." If it still needs to be said at this point. "You take good care of the poor guy, alright? Ya know how it is, age, high stress, drinkin' problem, all very hard on the ol' tickah."

"It is bad luck, where I come from, to shake hands when accepting gifts." It's also obvious he can't trust the clown in even innocent things. It was suspected, but now it's confirmed. Turning his masked gaze towards Gordon's new predicament, Bane merely ... looks. A sound of something that might be residual amusement - or perhaps the tea - takes hold. "I promise you will /die/ laughing over what I have in mind for him. Take him," he commands, to the crew and Orion, who will be the one carefully taking charge of the Commissioner. "And call the doctor. He looks injured. I hope you enjoy the pony I send to you." That last goes to the Joker, but a hint of consideration is given to the Quinn as well. "Enjoy your party. Don't let me interrupt further."

And of course, he has something to say to the Commissioner, not minding at all whether the clown and his coterie hear at all, as they make for departing. "You must be positively exhausted from all your fun today, Commissioner Gordon."

Gordon's eyes flash first from Harley to Joker, then to the cage within which Selina snoozes. Finally, they settle back on Bane, and the skin around his eyes shrinks just so - the telltale sign of a scowl. A gruff and muted grunt comes from beneath his duct-taped face.

Hyena to the left of her. Hyena to the right of her. Hands upon Mister Crowbie with the sharpened tip lying in a chipped depression in the ground. Harley is -all smiles.- Her babies are, too! "Sure hope so, we just love a good joke around here!" With another waggle of fingers, she calls out "Bye Mistah Commissionah! Have fun and don't forget to send a postcard!"

Pause. Glance to The Joker. "Nice kids, those guys."