A Dame to Kill For.

[Harley Quinn]

How many times; how many times have I been behind bars just like this one? I couldn’t tell you, even if my life depended on it. The smell of body odor, sweat, and bad food was the same for all of them. Even when the facility is as high tech as this one, they all still have that putrid smell of the people they put away behind bars. What's worse is the constant staring, the judgmental eyes never leaving my sight, and yet they avoid to look at me directly. It was like I was some caged beast, interesting, maybe even comical, but dangerous. When I put it like that, the glares weren’t so bad and the team inside my head also agreed with me.

It was a good thing that the possibilities of them being able to hear my conversations were high. I have this horrible habit of saying all the ways I am going to annihilate everyone in the room under my breath, and this tends to make the little piggies squeal. For the good of everyone, I was alone, at least for now. This cell, even with the appearance of being a basic holding was way more advanced than anything I have ever been booked in. Bright lights must be a common thing in this universe because my eyes were burning from the luminescent tiles above my head. Even with this cell’s simplistic design, sitting here I felt like my powers were being suppressed by an invisible force. Yup, this was a shitty deal alright. 

One thing was the same for all the cells I have ever been in, and that is the incredible boredom. The longer I stay in this cage, the more frustrated I become. When I am bored I will do pretty much anything to entertain myself. Standing as close to the bars as I could I watched all the people being occupied with their daily lives. There were other people who looked like that Judge fellow, but they were completely dressed in white armor and topped with shiny helmets. I have a sinking feeling that I will, unfortunately, see that tin can again someday. He was like The Batman, being a dark cloud that shadows me, watching and waiting to bust me. Judge Dredd, with his mysterious, towering pillar of authority, had me going huba huba. I’d have to do something very naughty to make him chase my tail again. Thinking about it, I couldn't help but feel excited.

After waiting for what felt like ages, I heard my name being said from across the room by a woman in an ugly suit. He then took the clipboard she was holding and to looked over it for a few moments. I mean, I can’t really tell with that ridiculous headpiece what he is looking at. Walking over to me, I winked at him while he ordered me to back up with my hands in the air.

“So, you are the lucky one?” The civil servant told me in muffled, and semi-robotic tone. The man opened the door to my cell by punching a code in this fancy box and pulled me forcibly by the arm down a narrow hallway. Luck? Hardly. Judging by the state I am in, it looks like it's going to be a very long night for me. Although, the less time in here the better or I’ll wind up a life sentence for having too much fun.

With a gun pointed at my back, he leads me into a small room with only a table and a couple of chairs. The walls were a dingy and lifeless gray and there was futuristic, pod-like cameras in every corner. I have been in this room before as well, here is where the good cop, bad cop plays out. This is where I have to prove my innocence or whatever. But, I am not innocent, not even close.


More waiting, I sat there in that uncomfortable chair, staring at the one of glass from the camera’s back at my striking reflection.  This is the part the big boys behind the screen start deciding my fate, and where their eyes are free to gawk anywhere they wanted to. Disgusting. The more I sat here the more frustrated I became with the men who thought they had a right to keep me here. Until finally, two guards filled the empty spaces in the already cramped room. They started by asking me for my story, which I gladly told from start to finish while they judged me with their lifeless, robotic faces. At least, that was the vibe I got from the punks since it was impossible to tell by those stupid fruit basket of a helmet.

One of them threw an envelope on the table in front of me, which spilled out its contents. It was a couple of photographs of other white armed men, completely covered in blood. “What can you tell me about this?” The taller cop who showed me the file asked, in a grumpy authoritative manner. Here we go with the shit storm.

Taking a second to look over the gruesome prints, I couldn’t help but smile widely from ear to ear. Letting out a mocking giggle, I respond politely “Looks like I lost my invention in the mail.”

I felt the rage build up in him as he got up and around the table, then slammed my head down onto the cold metal. “You think this is some kind of joke? These were good men and your friend killed them, did you help him do it?” He yelled at my face, his hand pushed down on my temple once more before finally releasing me.

Blood dripped from my nose, tickling my lips I let out a booming and uncontrollable heckle. “Naughty, Naughty” I stopped to spit out a mouthful of blood towards the general direction of the pig. “Let me start by saying, if you put your hands on me again I will hillariously end your worthless life in the most exciting way and I would live happily-ever-after eating cereal out of that big head of yours.” I snarled with the blood dripping on my lips and sliding down my neck. He tried once again to tempt fate but his partner stopped him from making another foolish mistake.

“Listen we just want answers, those were good men and we just want justice for them and their families. So please tell us anything you know.” The good cop asked and then stopped to rummage through a pocket on this belt for a tissue.

This whole event was definitely amusing, instead I would feel much better if I painted the walls with their blood and danced with their limp bodies. I bet I could take about ten or fifteen of them out before they had to call my fearless Judge to come save the day. Its definitely what these bastards deserved but there is no booze in jail Harley.

“Look, I have been behind this table before, not once, but thousands of times, and for things I am willing to commit to doing. But, I am sorry to burst your bubble robocop, I had nothing to do with this. I did not know the guy, I just shared a cab with him before I kicked his stupid ass out.”

The men exchanged looks once more before the good cop spoke to the dick cop “If she was really apart of this I think Dredd would have iced her.” The dick soldier shrugged and slammed his fist against the desk, his frustration brought out a giggle. The two pigs left the room and left me alone with my thoughts once again.