A Coronation of Chaos

April 15, 2016:

Harley is raising hell and Fantomex interjects. Don't steal a girls teddy bear.

Gotham Diamond District


NPCs: Harley's Henchies!

Mentions: Bats


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Sometime past 2am.

Diamond District is high security, considering. And unless you have quite the skills, know-how, blueprints and tact getting one over here is something that is a bit of work. Harley lacks the latter and has no patience for the rest of it. So this is why at 2am down one of the strips of the Diamond District a compact car rolls up in front of a business and 'Harley Goons' pour out.

It's a clown car, not a vagina - or is that vice versa? It's a Prius and it has about 13 bodies crammed into it but they manage to come out in a flow that fits the horns blaring honk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zo6WvPrOxZQ

Attention getter? Yep, but the goons fan out and as they move down one side of the strip bearing jewelers and attire stores all alternating in a row, small objects are placed on the glass bearing blue and red flashing lights.

Like a militia they wait in front of the four stores, some at the curb, others at the doors and windows. The small winding motor making their posture right as the scooter pulls up with helmeted driver honking a small plastic horn as it is parked right in front of the Prius.

Helmet is taken off and the spill of platinum pig tails tipped in red and blue ombre spill out, a bat drawn from a side stow to pitch over her shoulder while heeled sports shoes hit the pavement.

On impact the glass blows out and the cement before the buildings is painted in a red and blue smile. "Shopping time ladies and gents!"

Sometime past 2am is a good time for a heist, although Fantomex prefers to start earlier. Say, eleven or so. Also, he never steals from shops. Almost never. Today he is technically stealing from a shop, but what he is stealing is information from the latest transactions from the store computers. Because money laundry is more fun when they leave the money all clean for you, and they can't go to the police, or even admit they had it.

Alas, someone blew up the glass window, which was supposedly high-impact resistant. It means a boring night might turn into an amusing one. Unless it is Weapon Plus again, which are not very fun lately. He better go investigate. And ignore E.V.A.'s advice about getting out of there without bothering knowing who it is.

Heels click and crunch, broken glass ignored beneath stilettos of black and white. Amped out soccer shoes and the cleats still remain on the bottom because… It makes sense, duh!

The first building she enters is the jewelry store - B.W. Jewelers, security guards already on the ground by her good lil goons as Harley skips inward and straddles one, pitching the bat over shoulder to bend and pull out a lipstick. Twisting it from the base it is a pinkish red in hue, but within the wax based cosmetic is a confection of proportions that will keep him out as long as he "savors the flavor". A painting of lips with that smile off the edges and she moves onward, pausing before a large display case and thrusts a hip to the side. A debate as the bat is tapped along shoulder to the rhythm of the alarm blaring now as another store is opened wide.

"Eenie…Meenie.." A timed tick of bat-laden hand goes between cases, her other hand unzipping the rather large fanny pack slung upon hip and looped through the bedazzled belt, a strap unnecessary to keep the tight cling of red and blue sequinned shorts on hips.

"Minie!" CRASH!


From the fannie pack somes edible candy necklaces, bracelets, and earrings.

Let the trade begin.

"Ya know,I hear magpie's do this, and it's acceptable." A bite off one and it gets put right where a diamond necklace gets pulled from.

A glance outside the office makes Fantomex blink s a few times. It is a violent robbery, by a small army of thugs, and in the middld of the Diamond District. It is a crazy plan. And yes, there is a crazy around. And there will be cops soon. Le sigh.

So he pulls the USB out and kicks the computer open, grabbing the hard drives and dropping them in the coat pokets. Then steps out of the office and walks calmly towards the vandalic clown girl. Along the way one of the goons makes an attempt to brain him with a baseball bat, so he catches the bat midstrike and punches the man through the wall. "Bonjour," he greets in apparent good mood.

A dance, Harley is humming a tune though that is nowhere near a waltz. Even the small bits of beat boxing that comes from red painted lips has her doing something akin to a chicken dance, but below it shows the possibility of moves - but right now? Broken chicken wing it is!

"Literally, I can't…" Valley girl monotones as index taps upon chin and the bat is swung towards a case, though a screeching halt barely has the tip of "Good Night" tapping the glass, eyes lined in red and blue powder zeroing in on Fantomex.

"Great White Bat!" Said in the same tone one would say Eureka! But what Harley found was one of her beloved little henchies (whose name she will likely never remember) get tossed aside and through a wall.

"Lookin' for a good time?" The smile is half cocked, the brow over eye bearing heart tattoo just beneath rising in tandem before her bat swings in a low circle down and upward.

"I promise at least first base." Zip! The fanny pack is sealed and hooked to the studded belt is a smiley face plastic trinket, upon keychain it spins around her finger, flick - flick. Back and forth before it is palmed and a loud whistle resounds.

"Batter up, bitches!" And from front to side she steps, a wind up and a single leg tucks upward as if she is about to knock one out the park and she charges Fantomex.

"Minemine, mine!" Claim laid?

"Good time, well… oui, I do," and she charges? They must have different ideas of what a good time means! "Madame, I assure you I am not a bat." He ducks, and rolls to a side. "And my presence is purely accidental. Mostly accidental. By the way, are you aware you are attacking me with a baseball bat and I am armed with handguns?"

IT'S A SWING AND A MISS!! The broadcaster would have said, followd by a:

"Steee-rike!" Harley states as the wallop she intended to pack to the man in white has her pivoting full circle and facing back at Fantomex. Her landing though is very much like Charlie Chaplin, one hand upon the bat's handle end, cupped into palm, fingers bracing around the end. Her other is propped upon bent and cocked hip as she leans forward in a little rock that tkes her from heels to tippy toes. Leaning towards Fantomex. Lips purse, nostrils flare and brows furrow. An up down of light blue eyes and the gum tucked in cheek stretches across tongue to loudly *POP* between teeth.

Gun?? "Yah?!?" And from hip's perch to sweep forward, passing through fallen open Letterman jacket her own handgun is brandished, cocked to the side and inspected.

"Mistah, biggest weapon in this room is definitely not anything you nor I hold right now." A tap to temple with a wink and she assesses him with another snappish up-down of eyes.

"Yeahhh Bats don't like guns much. At least not the big black one." A wistful sigh and bones he had broken before ache in reminiscence. A shudder and she keeps eyes on Fantomex while easing towards the case she had initially come for, a hand lifting and all of the bedazzled bangles she had already acquired clatter down her wrist, revealing the diamond pattern-work tattoo of the harlequin markings beneath.

"Leave my henchies alone, animals only do what survival tells them, ya know?"

Sighing at the glass her bat bounces off of reflectively she gets another one of those blinking blue and red bombs, plastering it to the pedestal. "Now if ya ain't gonna help, or stop me, may wanna take cover Batghost."

Already the sound of fleeing henchmen can be heard outside, as well as the departing honking of that ridiculous horn. They got what they wanted, Harley?

In the case is a multi-setting teddy bear made of white gold and embedded with variant gems to give it polka dots…and a princess crown.

"Let the coronation begin!"

Nice bear there. Fantomex considers… no, eyesore. On the other hand, he picks up the blinking bomb and disassembles it quickly. "In my defense, mademoiselle, he tried to hit me first. Oh, this is yours," he offers the clown woman the pieces of the bomb. "It didn't have to flash and glow so much, mon dieu."

Staring at Fantomex her jaw drops when he offers her the pieces of bomb, looking from his hand to his face. Hand. Face. Hand.

Face. Glare.

Reaching up and back the baseball bat is pulled from a rigged contraption across her back , spinning it in her palm so the burnt in scrawl of "Good Night' across its wooden surface faces out. "Ya hit my Henchies, then you turn my bomb into a sad excuse of a tinker toy. Gimme one good excuse I should not do the same to your tinker toys, my way." The bat thumps into the palm of her hand and the frown on her face looks like it'd be a pout if the light in her eyes does not seem all too happy.

Fantomex tilts his head, "well, that wouldn't be fair," he replies, stepping back. "I was just trying to show you how a subtler thief would do this." He shows her his hands, nothing there, but he touches the case, he produces a small card between his fingers, and runs it over the sensors. The case opens and Fantomex pulls out the crowned teddy bear. No alarm sounds (well, not more alarms sound). And he gives the jeweled toy to the clown girl.

The bat stills in her grip but her hand is curled around the wide end, the other grinding over the handle wrapping as she twists. There is no response for Fantomex until after he seems to effortlessly open the case and then offers her the crowned bear. Blink blink.

Lips purse and twist to the side lightly, her head tilting in a manner that casts a pigtail over her shoulder, the evident thought and debate there, but it doesn't stop her from grabbing the bear and holding it close, the bat put back as if she had never held it.

The way her fingers clutch the thing, the stretch of smile… A child at Christmas, but then she plucks the tiara from the bears head and puts it on her own. "You want the bear? It's ugly."
"Certainly not, it is of poor craftsmanship," notes the white-clad thief. The police is going to wonder why they left a teddy bear worth a small fortune. Or maybe not, criminals in Gotham are often nuts like that. "Now, we better leave," he invites Harley with a gesture to walk with him out. "Did I introduce myself? I am Fantomex."

Shrugging then Harley stuffs it in her coat and, tips her crown and heads for the exit, the alarms blaring and a great main beat to the stuccato of police sirens wailing in approach. "It'll pay for things." As the Prius turns the corner nearly tilting onto two wheels with the cram of bodies inside as well as the breakneck speed the windup thing got to.. "Like a bigger car."

Nevermind the fact that she skips down the stairs, pigtails bobbing with every hop, she climbs onto a tiny red scooter, both feet pressed against the ground easily while she straddles the seat. "Harley Quinn." As if the red and blue patterns all over did not explain enough from teeny bedazzled shorts to the makeup around each eye as well as the hair. It did as much for her name as his white did for his.

"I gotta split mistah, this think takes 30 seconds to get to 40 and they'll be here in less then a minute." A brief scan of him again and she rocks forward, firing up the engine that sounds more like it winds up.

"Ever been to Coney Island?" Pulling away then she was not kidding, it sounded like a hamster in a wheel ran the thing. "Ya should."

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