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“WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET THAT??!!”
At the sound of the deranged clown’s raised voice, Jonny Frost’s head snapped up. He’d been intent on cleaning his weapons, something to pass the time while he had guard duty over Her Royal Craziness. Now he strained his ears to hear the rest of the couple’s exchange through the thick bank vault door that lead into Harley’s boudoir.
“Puddin’!!” That was Her Royal Craziness. Frost wondered what in the hell she’d done to piss the boss off this time.
“I thought you’d think it was funny”, she was saying. “I ordered it off Amazon.” Oh God, Frost thought to himself. Which idiot gave her the wifi password?
Frost could barely hear the boss’ reply, his voice had become deadly soft. “You ordered it off where, Harleykins?” Frost briefly considered getting out of there before the shooting started. Or the fucking. Or both. He stayed only because it would be worse for him to abandon his post.
Crack!! Frost winced. That slap sounded hard as hell. He heard Harley yelp in pain and then a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass and wood. “My dollies!” Fuck, he thought. She must have fallen into the large antique display case where she kept a creepy collection of harlequin dolls. Just one more thing for the boys to clean up in there.
Not a minute later, the spokes on the vault door whirled and the boss emerged, a look of pure fury on his face. Frost was on his feet in an instant. Those demonic blue eyes stared at Frost, once again giving the impression that his very soul was being examined. Through his gritted silver teeth, an order was ground out. “Find whoever gave her the password. Punish that individual. Then bring him to me so that I can punish him again.” Frost nodded, knowing better than to speak when the boss was this angry and breathed a tiny sigh of relief as he watched the green haired clown walk away.
Before Frost could radio for a replacement guard and begin his search for the unlucky lackey who was about to die, a pigtailed blonde head peeked around the door. “Frosty!!” Despite the blood on her cracked lip, Harley had a big grin on her face. “You don’t think Mistah J is too mad at his Harley, do you?”
Inwardly Frost snorted. “Well he only slapped you once” is what he wanted to reply, but he knew better. Her Royal Craziness had the ability to produce knives seemingly from nowhere and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with another stab wound. Instead he took a moment to look at her before answering.
Frost’s jaw dropped. The Clown Princess of Crime stood in the circular vault doorway, dressed head to toe as, of all fucking people, Batman. She was holding a batarang in her hand and her thigh high stiletto boots had leather bat symbols on the toes. Harley giggled wildly and adjusted her utility belt. Frost was speechless for a long moment. Recovering, he shook his head. “No, miss. I don’t imagine he’ll stay mad about...whatever it is.”