A Gag No One Laughs At (pt.2)

August 10, 2016:

(Backdated Scene) Harley confronts Gaggy and an imposter Joker. Arsenal and Taskmaster are along for the ride.

Characters

NPCs: Gaggy Gagsworthy, Joker (actor)

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Happy Mike's XXL is a lively place, incredibly popular and often colorful. Tonight colorful is an understatement, the crowd of Mike's looks like a kaledioscope of variety, mostly because it's overpopulated with clowns.

The gunshot has the normal denizens clawing at the walls in panick but a good number of them, mainly the circus entourage isn't budging, they stand with red bulby noses directed towards the Mistress of Mayhem herself, Harleen Quinzel. The Joker's squeeze.

A curious silence has fallen on the club beyond the bass beat and techno distortion, the indvidual who was just shot, Joker's old sidekick is yelling profanities and one of those had been to call the Joker himself an idiot.

The laughter stops immediately and the pale face of the Clown Prince draws to a flat unreadable mask and a quiet, "Sorry boss." is whispered. Barely audible. The visage of terrifying Killer Clown from Gotham turns from laughing chaos to humble goon.

Harley of all people would recognize the wrong of all of this. The fishy of it. That isn't the Joker. The ruse is likely up.

"Don't just stand there all of you, kill her! Kill them all!" Gaggy screams.

The faux Joker scrambles over to lean down and try and scoop Gaggy uponly to get slapped and kicked with a flurry of hits.

At the bar Taskmaster takes another long drink of his Jack'n'Coke, "We're going to get crap? No, Kid Arrow. I am not getting anything, this is a domestic. This is between Harley and her baggage… you wanna play with those whackjobs, by all means, help yourself."

It smelled worse then Penguin on a hot day kind of fishy..

Howso? Rewind 30 seconds ago when he dared insult this Joker. The rest, ahh, happened a lot back when. Gaggy should have been finished off and left a smear.

Instead…

The work of jaw clicks to the side and that cane in her hand had recoiled with the force of the blast that took Gaggy to the ground, behind her it slams down now, her back arching in the sudden plant of both hands on the knob of the cane, legs kicking upward. An acrobatic motion that has legs scissoring out then twisting together in a snap that has her body corkscrewing towards The Faux J, a motion that landed her on the table they had sat at back-first,but sliding across the laquered surface, sending drinks spraying outward.

Reaching back in the slide she grabs the lip of the table and using weight and velocity she drops to the ground and upends the table to slam it on them both.

"Not nice to interrupt a girls dance!"

"Never -was- one to say no to a lady in distress," Roy retorts, leaping back to his feet. "I do owe you something, so don't go 'way."

Crossbow dragged out of jacket into his hand, Roy swings after the 'boss', which apparently was the short one. "Hey Joker…! Since when did you start reporting to Mini-Me?" the agent calls out, already taking aim at one of the goons, while kicking over a table to send drinks flying in the air as a distraction to draw fire.

Huh? (Type "help" for help.)
"You try to pay me anything that isn't cash I will fong you. I will fong you until your outsides are in, your insides are out, your entrails will become your extrails. Pain! Lots of pain…" Taskmaster's distorted voice releases a chuckle around his drink. How does he drink with skull mask on? A straw! It is visible if one looks close enough.

The Joker clone is incapable of a response to Arsenal as a table flips up and nails him alongside Gaggy who is grounded still, the crash bowls them into one another and more of those fancy toys roll out. Differing marbles of shapes, size and colors all of them spewing green gas.

Those muscular clown goons that guided the two under the table in are pulling out pistols, shotguns and submachine guns. It is about to get loud. The first bang is heard as the shotgun goes off. Aimed in Harley's direction it causes glasses to explode and wood shrapnel to fly up.

"Crap was right." Taskmaster is not bullet proof. He dives over the bar and takes cover.

Harley is already running, a figure that moves from floor to tables and jumps from one to the next in leaps and bounds, never remaining still because a moving target is a hard one to nail!

The being enough said as the shotgun blast aimed for her tears off a corner of the bar just after she flips and lands upon the surface.

The crouched position allows her a moment of vantage and another moment to reach -up- her skirt from along hemline and from somewhere (a girl never tells!) the long barreled Chiappa Rhino 60DS ornately decorrated in gold and black flashes with the rise that aims for the one who open fired upon her and one that is seeking to close a gap towards Arsenal…

…Who tha fuck is that?!

Heeled boots click-clack over the counter top in a sashaying swagger that pauses just over Taskmaster in his retired effigy of Barney Fife is. "Might wanna get to high ground Mista T. If the gas doesn't get ya the bombs will." Wink.

Harley is gone in a swing off a hanging light, the cane strapped along her back withdrawn once more, swung like her 'Good Night' as she drops into the midst of the gas and the barrel of that gun falls on Arsenal. "You too shugs. Up-up."

Fong, fong, so very fong, apparently for Taskmaster.

The spewing green gas, on the other hand, is going to be a problem, and Roy is only too glad to agree with Harley's invitation, heading for safer territory. Take another shot at the Joker, -just- to make sure he stays down, maybe hopefully get -something- to cover up the gas marbles and slow down its spread a bit… although Harley certainly doesn't seem perturbed by the smoke.

"Who -is- the mini-me, anyway?" Roy asks as he scrambles for the top of the counter.

The clowns that are unprepared for the gas attack Gaggy has tossed out are struggling for air and cackling as they fight to pull masks over their painted faes. Several prepared are managing to get them up and on their scalps.

Gaggy can be seen limping free of the table, red fluid streaming down his belly. The Joker unfortunately lies convulsing on the floor, his face stretched in to an overgrown rictus of a laugh, he was a great physical impersonator at least. A shame the real mania that is the Joker cannot be so easily recreated.

Taskmaster's image inducer fell away as soon as bottles around him started to explode. His body armored self pulling that straw free of his mask and pressing down on the sealant portion of his mask, hopefully this stuff doesn't bleed through skin.
"Nothing is every clean or easy." The merc bitches, a 45. nothing fancy springs to life and rapid fires off three shots. The three clowns who were masked are now on the ground with extra holes in their heads. "So, uh, we ain't in Gotham. What gives?" He decides to start scaling away from the green smog. Just in case. "This little freak wants you so bad hes gonna come all the way to New York to put on violent theatre?" Lookit that. Task randomly has the pistol aimed at Roy even if he is carrying on in casual conversation or seemingly casual.

OH YEAH!! Arsenal reminds her…

The cane scrapes along the ground, her walk is brisk, but she takes her own advice and a chair is sprung up upon, rocking it to tip and platform back onto the stage. The hand bearing the gold plated Rhino twirls in the curls of blonde and ombre hues, the gum chewed is blown into a bubble that *Pops* in a confectional gunshot. But just as it explodes so does her motion, bolting her down the runway to leap from it, the cane snapping out to try and take Gaggy down across his throat to land him right back akimbo on the ground.

"What's your name, //Gaggy?!" And as she says it the toe of that boot is placed right between splayed legs…

"Give him a moment, his marbles are getting… rattled. He'll tell ya like a nice guest in our city."

"Gaggy…?" Roy eyerolls, making a gesture like gagging himself. "Expecting something clean and easy in -this- town is sort of like expecting to find a snowball in hell," he retorts, ignoring the casual pistol aimed at him for the moment, maybe because his own crossbow is aimed at the 'Joker'. "Given the convention of clowns here, I'd -just- bet some circus arrived in town… although -now- that reminds me I need to get tickets to the Big Apple Circus. Say, you wouldn't happen to have any tickets for sale, would you?"

Like a gunslinger of the Old West Taskmaster spins the firearm in to a holster. "Low level threats, like I said." A grunt, "Hardly worth the time. You want to improve your game clown, call me, I'll get your crew in shape."

Gaggy on the ground choking and struggling only wheezes, absolute hatred in his gaze leveled on Harley, "I was better than you… I was first. You're nothing, a nobody, a harlot. I am Gaggy! I AM THE ORIGI… " Those madman's eyes roll up in to his head and he goes unconscious, either hes got a tender set of marbles or that gunshot wound put him under. It's done. Sirens are in the distance somewhere and there are dead patrons and clowns alike.

"Gonna arrest anyone, Agent Speedy?" Taskmaster taunts and motions around them, "Or this out of DEO jurisdiction? I suppose no mutants, vampires or aliens… "
"Lets go, let that tool bleed out. If he manages to live it'll be a while before he harasses you or your people." Wounds to recover from and all. Plus they got put down fairly easily, maybe Gaggy and the Goof Troop will realize they're out of their league.

Satisfied enough, Harley nods, lower lip pursing to blow a strand of hair from her face, smearing thumbs beneath eyes o sop mascara from running too much and prettify herself…

A dip of hand into her top and from the 'top holster' her cell phone is withdrawn, tapped on and with a deep breath she lays down beside Gaggy's prone form, lifts the camera and… You guessed it! Takes a selfie with him, surrounded in the green gas like a nice filter! Fitting…

Snapping upright from the surrounding cloud of gas she exhales and ascends a table, texting rapidly. "Goat-butt needs to see we got 'im!" A jump from table to table looks almost like hop-scotch to her, the cane spun and locked back along her spine, the Rhino safetied and held at out-thrust hip to tap there.

"Oh I ain't gonna save him, not paid to do that. They are." A gesture up, but meant for the sound of sirens approaching. But as Taskmaster speaks Harley's eyes narrow upon Arsenal, her walk towards him ends just before him, *popping* his personal bubble in an inspection that seems almost birdlike with the craning of neck and snappy gestures to encircle him, the bells on teensy tinsey outfit jingling.

"You must look good in uniform, Cupid." A draw off hand across Arsenal's chest and Harley hooks her arm through Taskmasters in a pivot upon heel that dances her towards the exit, pep in her step somewhat. She doesn't want to go back, she just got out!

"Coney Island is the best Circus, otherwise you're wasting your money." Harley responds to Roy and then lets blue gaze linger on Taskmaster. "Don't waste your talent. I'll kill the competition." Smiles!

"Should see me out of uniform," Roy rejoins back, flashing a smirk as he eyes Harley. "And I'll think about it… assuming it's -safe- for kids."

Waving Task off, Roy tugs his shirt up slightly to use as a makeshift bandana. "Anyway, I suppose I should detain you long enough to chat, but you know, I think this gas is affecting me. Don't rightly rememeber who was here and who wasn't."

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