The chandeliers glittered like diamonds in the grand ballroom of Gotham's Founders Gala, casting a golden glow over the city's most powerful. Politicians, CEOs, socialites, and criminals who pretended they weren't criminals—all dressed in silk and arrogance, sipping champagne worth more than the salaries of the men guarding the doors.
It was a beautiful night. A perfect night.
Until the doors exploded.
A blast of fire and splintered wood sent shards raining across the room. Guests screamed, ducking behind tables as smoke billowed through the entrance. And through the haze, two silhouettes emerged—graceful, unbothered, drenched in menace.
Harley Quinn, in a blood-red gown that clung to her curves, twirled a golden mallet between gloved fingers, a wicked grin splitting her face. Beside her, The Joker, clad in a perfectly tailored emerald-green suit, adjusted his cufflinks, unfazed by the destruction he'd just caused.
For a moment, the room was frozen. The elite of Gotham, people who thought they were untouchable, stared at the two infamous criminals standing before them.
Then Joker lifted a microphone from the bandstand, tapping it with a gloved finger.
"Well, well, well… Ain't this a sight? Gotham's finest, all gathered under one roof, sippin' your little overpriced drinks, pretendin' like you own this city." He let out a slow, dramatic sigh. "But see, that's our job."
Harley curtsied, batting her lashes. "Lucky for you, me and Mistah J are here to liven things up!"
The first gunshot rang out like a firework, shattering the tension. Joker didn't even look at the man he'd shot—some billionaire oil tycoon, irrelevant. The ballroom erupted into chaos. Guests screamed. Glass shattered. Women in thousand-dollar gowns tripped over themselves trying to flee.
Harley swung her mallet straight into a senator's gut, sending him crashing onto the hors d'oeuvres table. "Mmm, yer softer than ya look, pal." She giggled, grabbing a glass of champagne and toasting with a terrified waitress before smashing the flute against the woman's head.
"No one leaves, folks!" Joker announced, aiming his pistol at a group of men scrambling for the exits. "Party's just gettin' started!"
He grabbed a governor by the tie and yanked him close. "Now, where's Gotham's fearless leader, huh? Where's my favorite little public puppet?"
The crowd split, and there he was—Mayor William Kane, pale as a ghost, frozen in place.
Harley let out a whistle. "Awww, there he is! Mistah Mayor, you're lookin' a little green. Jealous of Puddin's suit?"
Joker stalked toward the trembling man, twirling his gun. "You know, Billy-boy, you've been doin' a real bad job runnin' this city. And me 'n' my queen decided it's time for a lil'… restructuring."
Before the mayor could so much as breathe, Joker's goons grabbed him, hog-tying him like a prize at the county fair.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Joker turned back to the room, throwing his arms out. "I humbly accept the position of Mayor of Gotham!"
Harley clapped excitedly. "Three cheers for Mayor Mistah J!"
BOOM.
Another explosion rocked the ballroom—Joker's crew had detonated the security gates outside, making way for their getaway vehicles.
Harley leaned in, running a finger down the mayor's sweaty cheek. "Time to go, sugar. Don't worry, we'll take real good care of ya."
And with that, they dragged the mayor toward the waiting fleet, vanishing into the night.
Hours Later – The Streets of Gotham
A parade of stolen police cars and armored trucks roared through downtown, sirens blaring. But they weren't being driven by cops.
At the very front, standing atop a stolen SWAT truck, Joker and Harley, holding the bound-and-gagged mayor like a trophy.
Joker lifted a megaphone.
"People of Gotham! Your beloved mayor has officially retired! That's right—he's decided to step down in favor of someone a little more… chaotic!"
He yanked the gag from the mayor's mouth, shoving the megaphone at him.
"T-T-THE JOKER IS NOT THE MAYOR! HE'S A—"
Harley smacked him upside the head with the butt of her pistol. "Rude! You're supposed ta be welcomin' our new administration, not whinin' like a lil' bitch!"
The city below was in panic. Citizens watched, terrified. Reporters scrambled for cameras. Cops were for to afraid to engage.
And then—
The Batmobile's roar cut through the night.
From the roof of the vehicle, Batman surveyed the scene, eyes narrowing.
Joker just laughed, dragging the mayor onto a raised platform. "Ah, ah, ah, Batsy! You wouldn't wanna see Gotham's beloved leader go SPLAT, now would ya?"
Batman moved, launching himself toward the couple from the Batmobile—
But suddenly, spotlights cut through the sky.
Hundreds of Joker's goons emerged from alleyways, rooftops, everywhere, armed to the teeth.
Harley tutted, swinging her mallet over her shoulder. "Awww, Bats. Looks like ya stepped into the wrong side'a town."
Batman calculated. He could fight. He could take down dozens—but hundreds? Not tonight.
Joker grinned. "Now, now, don't look so grim, old friend. We both know how this ends."
With that, he lifted his arms, waiting.
Batman hesitated.
But he had no choice.
He stepped forward, cuffing The Joker.
The city watched, stunned.
Joker simply grinned, eyes twinkling as he leaned in close. "You've lost, Batsy."
Batman's grip tightened. "Have I?"
Joker just laughed, the sound echoing through the streets as he was shoved into a police van, still chuckling.
The doors slammed shut.
But Batman knew—this wasn't over.
This was just the beginning.
The penthouse felt empty without him.
Harley lounged on the massive velvet couch, absentmindedly twirling a butterfly knife between her fingers, her mind running a million miles a minute. The dim city lights flickered outside, Gotham still reeling from the chaos she and Joker had unleashed at the gala.
And now, he was in Blackgate.
She hated it.
Across from her, Jonny Frost sat in one of the leather armchairs, swirling a glass of whiskey. "Alright, Harl. We gotta think smart about this."
Harley rolled her eyes. "Smart, shmarrt, we gotta act fast. They got my Puddin' locked up in some filthy ol' prison cell like he's some common crook."
Jonny sighed. "Well, technically, he is—"
Harley shot him a look.
He put his hands up. "Right. Never mind."
She leaned back, eyes scanning the ceiling. "Breakin' him out's too obvious. Batsy will be watchin' for that, expectin' me to come guns blazin'. No, no, no…" Her lips curled into a slow grin. "We gotta make 'em think I ain't interested no more."
Jonny raised an eyebrow. "What're you sayin'?"
Harley smirked. "I'm sayin' it's time for a breakup, Jonny-boy."
He blinked. "The hell does that mean?"
She twirled the knife one last time before stabbing it into the table with a thunk. "I tell Gotham me 'n' Mistah J are done. That I ain't ridin' with him no more, that I'm my own woman now."
Jonny narrowed his eyes. "And what? Hope the cops and Bats just believe it?"
Harley grinned wider. "Oh, they will. 'Cause I'll make 'em."
She grabbed her phone, scrolled through her contacts, and hit dial.
Moments later, a whisper of her voice slithered across the city—through underground channels, tabloid reporters, criminal networks, and right into the ears of anyone who mattered.
Harley Quinn and The Joker are over.
And just like that, the bait was set.
Later That Night – knock knock knock
It didn't take long for the vultures to circle.
Harley stood in the penthouse doorway, twirling a lollipop in her mouth as she eyed the smug bastard in front of her.
Roman Sionis.
Black Mask himself, standing there in his impeccable suit, flanked by Victor Zsasz.
Roman's grin was wide, charming, but his eyes—his eyes were calculating, scanning her like she was just another tool he could use.
"Harley Quinn. Gotham's most eligible free agent." His voice dripped with amusement. "Heard the news. You and your clown finally called it quits, huh?"
Harley tilted her head, popping the lollipop out of her mouth. "That's right, honey. I ain't nobody's girl no more."
Roman stepped inside like he owned the place, hands in his pockets. "Well, well, well. Now that is interesting. Y'know, I always thought you were wasted on that maniac."
Harley giggled, but there was no warmth in it. "Awww, Romin' baby, ya flatter me."
Roman chuckled, walking over to the penthouse bar, pouring himself a drink like he lived there. "Listen, Harl. I got an opportunity for you. Something big."
Harley leaned on the counter, resting her chin on her hand. "Do tell."
He took a sip, then set the glass down, eyes locking onto hers. "There's a little drive floatin' around Gotham. Got all the dirt on the city's biggest crime lords. Names, locations, accounts—everything."
Harley raised a brow. "And lemme guess… ya want me to get it."
Roman smirked. "You're quick." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Do this for me, and maybe—maybe—I make sure you land on your feet now that you're flyin' solo."
Harley gave a slow, thoughtful nod, licking her lips. "Ya know what, Roman? You got yourself a deal."
Roman grinned. "Smart girl."
As soon as the door shut behind him, Harley dropped the act, her playful smirk turning sharp.
Jonny sighed from the couch. "You serious about this?"
Harley spun on her heel. "Hell no. That drivers my ticket to gettin' Mistah J back. And I already know who I'm usin' to do it."
Jonny folded his arms. "Who?"
Harley smirked.
"The Birds of Prey, baby."