A Warehouse, Gotham City, Evening 7/31/63
Hayley awoke, her head groggy. She was getting sick of surprises, of these twists and turns.
And now she was waking up and she was tied to a chair, hands bound to the arms of the chair. She kicked her legs futilely, and screamed into the darkness.
The lights came up in the warehouse, and she saw a man with his back to her. She recognized the green color of the suit, but the bowler on top of his head was new. He turned around, and even with that ridiculous domino mask she knew it was the sleazebag Doctor Nygma.
"You're gonna regret this, creep!" Hayley shouted, struggling with her bonds.
"What's the point in struggling, when it's a foregone conclusion?" the man said. "That's not a riddle, by the way, it's a rhetorical question."
"You're a rhetorical question!" Hayley shouted. She wasn't good at the snappy comebacks.
"Oh, very nice," Nygma said. "You're a disappointment, Hayley Fitzpatrick. Riddle me this. Why is your fate like a bad encore?"
"What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?" Hayley said, kicking in his direction. Her wrists were getting red and chafed, but she ignored the pain through the power of her anger.
"You're supposed to guess!" Nygma said, punching Hayley right in the mouth. It was a weak punch, but it still managed to leave a mark on her. A bruised cheek that started to puff a bit.
"You just wait," Hayley said, squirming even more in her chair. "Elle's gonna light you up like a lightbulb. And then you're gonna blow out." She stopped struggling for a moment, and smiled at him. A predatory smile.
"Wrong!" Nygma said. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at Hayley's head. She flinched, turning her head away. She didn't have the steely resolve to stare it down. "Why. Is. Your. Fate. Like. A. Bad. Encore?" He emphasized each statement with a little prod of the gun against her temple.
"Why don't you tell me," Hayley said, holding back a sniffle. She wasn't going to let him see her cry. He didn't deserve to see her cry.
"Because if you don't change your tune, the show's over," Nygma said. "Don't you see why I did all this? Why I went to all this trouble? This was all for you, little Harley Quinn. All for you."
"My name is Hayley," she said. "I'm not Harley Quinn. Never again. I promised."
"Gotham City needs it's secret king and queen, Harley Quinn," he repeated. He knew how to get under her skin, where her little psychological holes were. It was exactly what he'd been scoping out the whole time she'd gone for her 'evaluations'. "And while I'm no Bianca Steeplechase, I thought maybe, just maybe, you could see the joke behind every riddle."
He fetched something from his pocket and held it up to the light. It was the ring, the ring Bianca had given her that fateful night what seemed so long ago.
"The Riddler and Harley Quinn, lords of the Gotham underworld," he said. "It's a simple question, no twists or turns or secret pattern. One or the other. Yes or no. Be my queen, Harley Quinn?"
He stepped in close, took her hand and held the ring out by her finger. He slid it on, and grinned. "Please say yes."
"I want to whisper it to you," Hayley said, choking down her fury for a moment. "Come in close."
Nygma, ever the hopeful, leaned in. Hayley reeled her head back and slammed her forehead into his nose, which broke with a sickening crack and blood began to dribble down his face in thick gobs.
"Oh, you little..." Nygma said, furious. He fired a shot, not at her but at her feet. "You just need more time to think about it, don't you?"
The lights went out. "Think about what I offer. And what your alternative is, Harley Quinn."
[ooc: NFI, NFB, OOC Welcome. One more post and I'll stop spamming you all. Promise.]
And now she was waking up and she was tied to a chair, hands bound to the arms of the chair. She kicked her legs futilely, and screamed into the darkness.
The lights came up in the warehouse, and she saw a man with his back to her. She recognized the green color of the suit, but the bowler on top of his head was new. He turned around, and even with that ridiculous domino mask she knew it was the sleazebag Doctor Nygma.
"You're gonna regret this, creep!" Hayley shouted, struggling with her bonds.
"What's the point in struggling, when it's a foregone conclusion?" the man said. "That's not a riddle, by the way, it's a rhetorical question."
"You're a rhetorical question!" Hayley shouted. She wasn't good at the snappy comebacks.
"Oh, very nice," Nygma said. "You're a disappointment, Hayley Fitzpatrick. Riddle me this. Why is your fate like a bad encore?"
"What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?" Hayley said, kicking in his direction. Her wrists were getting red and chafed, but she ignored the pain through the power of her anger.
"You're supposed to guess!" Nygma said, punching Hayley right in the mouth. It was a weak punch, but it still managed to leave a mark on her. A bruised cheek that started to puff a bit.
"You just wait," Hayley said, squirming even more in her chair. "Elle's gonna light you up like a lightbulb. And then you're gonna blow out." She stopped struggling for a moment, and smiled at him. A predatory smile.
"Wrong!" Nygma said. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at Hayley's head. She flinched, turning her head away. She didn't have the steely resolve to stare it down. "Why. Is. Your. Fate. Like. A. Bad. Encore?" He emphasized each statement with a little prod of the gun against her temple.
"Why don't you tell me," Hayley said, holding back a sniffle. She wasn't going to let him see her cry. He didn't deserve to see her cry.
"Because if you don't change your tune, the show's over," Nygma said. "Don't you see why I did all this? Why I went to all this trouble? This was all for you, little Harley Quinn. All for you."
"My name is Hayley," she said. "I'm not Harley Quinn. Never again. I promised."
"Gotham City needs it's secret king and queen, Harley Quinn," he repeated. He knew how to get under her skin, where her little psychological holes were. It was exactly what he'd been scoping out the whole time she'd gone for her 'evaluations'. "And while I'm no Bianca Steeplechase, I thought maybe, just maybe, you could see the joke behind every riddle."
He fetched something from his pocket and held it up to the light. It was the ring, the ring Bianca had given her that fateful night what seemed so long ago.
"The Riddler and Harley Quinn, lords of the Gotham underworld," he said. "It's a simple question, no twists or turns or secret pattern. One or the other. Yes or no. Be my queen, Harley Quinn?"
He stepped in close, took her hand and held the ring out by her finger. He slid it on, and grinned. "Please say yes."
"I want to whisper it to you," Hayley said, choking down her fury for a moment. "Come in close."
Nygma, ever the hopeful, leaned in. Hayley reeled her head back and slammed her forehead into his nose, which broke with a sickening crack and blood began to dribble down his face in thick gobs.
"Oh, you little..." Nygma said, furious. He fired a shot, not at her but at her feet. "You just need more time to think about it, don't you?"
The lights went out. "Think about what I offer. And what your alternative is, Harley Quinn."
[ooc: NFI, NFB, OOC Welcome. One more post and I'll stop spamming you all. Promise.]