Smooth Criminals: Harley x Joker Origin Story

Chapter 5: A Match Made in Hell

Saturdays had become our date nights.

We hadn't bought much with the stolen cash yet, but I did upgrade my wardrobe a few times. Tonight, I wore sparkly red and black shorts, and a white shirt on which I'd painted Mister J's smile.

We blasted through the front doors of the movie theatre. The line to the ticket counter was packed, as were the automated machines and concessions. Overhead, an enormous spaceship hung alongside posters advertising current showings. The place reeked of popcorn and sweat.

Screams erupted, and everyone in the lobby hit the floor.

"Take your seats, ladies and gents," I shouted. "It's showtime."

Their eyes followed us as we stepped inside, heads peeking over booths and ticket machines like gophers.

I shook my pillowcase. "Wallets, diamonds, and cell phones, please! If I see any of you making a call, you'll have thirty bullets in your head before you can finish dialing."

"It's the Joker," someone whispered, and then others. "It's the Joker and his girl. Look. It's them!"

Sitting beside us in the ticket line, a blondie raised her phone. The camera made a loud CLICK!

I was over to her in three steps. I bent and snatched the phone from her manicured hands.

"Wait!" she said, reaching for it. "Can I send the picture to my friend first?"

I leaned back, appraising her. She stared up at me with huge doe eyes.

"What the hell," I said, and passed the phone back. "Here, take a better one."

I leaned in. She held the phone out for a selfie. I pressed my gun to her temple and stuck out my tongue.

She took the photo, sent the text, and passed me the phone.

"Wallet, puss," I said.

Blondie dug out her wallet and passed it to me.

Mister J was already behind the concession counter, dumping entire drawers of cash into his bag. Loose change clinked onto the floor.

"You should all be grateful," he said. "The burden of money and possessions... You don't need it. We're setting you free."

I walked the perimeter of the lobby, encouraging people to move quickly by twirling my gun around my finger.

"What a place for a date!" said Mister J, rummaging through the candy display. "Nothing says I love you like a ten dollar bag of Skittles."

I giggled.

The man kneeling in front of me snarled like a dog. He didn't produce his wallet.

I let my smile fall like a snuffed flame. "What's wrong, mister?"

I leaned down and combed through his salt-and-pepper hair. He refused to meet my eyes. I placed a finger under his chin.

"You don't think Mister J is funny?"

The man scowled but said nothing. I pressed my gun to his temple.

"Tell Mister J his jokes are funny."

He didn't obey. I clubbed him across the face with my gun. A spurt of blood hit the woman beside him.

"Laugh!"

The man made a pathetic noise, halfway between a sob and a gasp.

Satisfied, I reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He had an enormous wad of cash and a spiffy-looking credit card. I smelled the cash, then tossed it all in the pillowcase and jammed the empty wallet in his mouth. I reached in his other pocket and pulled out his car keys.