'we're not shamed...

you're entertained
But I'm not a puppet
I am a grenade"
Marilyn Manson - "Vodevil"

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That man remained quiet as he heard Harley move about the set in her usual eccentric fashion. Keeping himself content, he'd simply glower at any such person whom happened to shy a look towards him on his mock throne. When he found him being brought over he'd open his arms and give a rather amused look on his painted features. "There you.. are.." A embrace, arms going around him and allowing the man to sit in the chair he had coveted moments ago. Turning the megaphone over, he'd place it in the startled director's hands. A scrunch of his nose briefly to settle things for the time being before Joker would pull up a second chair next to him and sit down comfortably. Knees locked together and he'd begin to talk to the man in a rather excited voice. "Harley was telling me about your.. ah.. movie.. you happened to be shooting. I think the synopsis went something like this. A young.. doctor.. takes on a dangerous case.. only to find she developed feelings for her patient." He'd lean over curiously, invading the man's space, taking away any avenue of escape he might try. To do so in itself would have been a fool hardy venture with the current crop of muggers and killers he had paraded into the set with. Keeping talking, his hand would move as he'd clutch the magazine and sweep up to his feet. "Now I'm not one to be shy, but I can't help feeling like I've seen this song and dance before. Correct me if I'm wrong, I don't think anyone ever asked for my.. our.. permission to pen our lives into some sort of spectacle." He'd advance on him now, growing quicker in his pace and forcing him to shrink back in his chair. Tendrils of moss colored hair would shift as
he'd get in the man's face as he talked, that tone becoming dead serious. "Do you think my life has been a show for you to put on before everyone? Do you think I'm some sort of.. fool?" Squatting now to get eye level, he'd slap the man's face to bring him into attention and look him in the eye, his voice almost growling out now in that graveled voice. "Do you?"

The director wasn't intimidated by Harley Quinn, maybe because he didn't know it was really her, maybe because he didn't look down at the bodies of his bodyguards on the ground beneath him. Harley proving she was useful because she had managed to place herself behind the man, the barrel of her gun threatening to push against his back, it was a good thing too because the second he saw the Joker he panicked and turned around his stomach pushing and slamming right into Harley's gun. Her painted brow perked upwards, she was silently beginning for him to try it. But he didn't, turning right back around he was now face to face with the Joker. Harley jabbing him in the back with her gun she helped him make sure that he was sitting down. As Joker sat on the other chair she moved forward him, returning to his side. She much like Joker was not one to allow her life to be placed on display, at least not that part of it. It wasn't like they didn't have a nightly segment on the news every single night. Joker went on to explain the movie, and Harley couldn't help but break into a shy kind of smile when he reached the part about the doctor developing feelings for her patient. The director looked so scared as Joker stood, he was pushing back and Harley was snickering at that terror. His life, their life was not meant to be a summerblock buster, oh no no no. And when he was asked if he thought the Joker was some kind of fool, he studdered and mumbled, on the brink of tears, begging Joker not to hurt him, he had so much to live for. "No...no I don't." He finally said.

The Joker enjoyed causing any sort of fear to be in someone. More so than even Scarecrow, Joker liked his to be legitimate. To be real. The palm sweating, thinking back to every mistake you ever made kind. That was why when he got to the groveling part, he'd give a rough laugh and dare to sigh to the man. "No no no. Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not here.. to kill you! That was just.. for show. You're a director. You understand that sort of thing. I think, you're simply going about your project the wrong way. See, this looks like action. But the way I see it, you need to lean more to sticking to my strong points. Like comedy." That man would raise the shot gun up and turn towards one of the assistances whom had been stunned by the whole ordeal, donut clenched in his hand. A single shot would send him up and over the table spilling the refreshments that had been set out for the cast, the spray of coffee and blood staining the floor as he left a smoking hole in the man's chest. And then he'd start to laugh despite the overwhelming terror that now laid seige to the room. "See. Funny!" And with that he'd start to laugh at his actions, the gun clattering against the floor as he'd hoot and spill forth a stomach turning and disturbing view of mirth. The wound still smoking, he'd hoot abit before wiping his face and looking very serious. "I said funny." The goons would join in the laughing, with the occasional uncomfortable laughs of those new and fresh hostages. But don't think anything wrong, the hired help was as disturbed as the rest (save one in particular). A woman would rush to the dead man, actually checking on him and seeming to actually see if he was still alive or not, Joker paying no mind as he returned to sit with the man and deposit his weapon off to Har'. Leaning, he'd run his hands through his hair pushing it back and sighing, before talking to the floor. "Roger.. Roger.. Roger.. that's why I think you're going about this whole movie the wrong way. I'm just going to have to insist that I sign on as co-director. As long as that's ok with you. That's ok with you.. right?" Raising up to sit up properly, a single crinkle of his dry hair daring to dip back down as he'd glower at that director.

She could sense the man's fear, and she knew that Joker would be soon filled with that joy he loved. Because she knew what Joker knew, she knew that he loved being the fear in someone's heart. She leaned over her Puddin' the best she could, it was more to the side, her fingertips almost always threatening to touch the arm of Joker's deep purple jacket, big blue eyes puppy doggishly on him as he spoke. If the man had been smart he would have been studying the woman's moments when it came to the mad man, she was following him around and staring at him like she was under some kind of spell. She didn't even flinch when Joker fired and filled this person full of lead, oh no, instead she wiggled and swirmed moving closer to the freak in that cheap purple suit. The other men under Joker's command where scared of him, they feared him, well Harley, well she was just devoted. Grinning she started her giggles, different then the men and women's forced laugh, she was being honest about her laughter, and that's when the director saw that some of the rumors about Gotham's Bonnie and Clyde where true, she loved the killing just as much as he did. She held the weapon and played the part of a distracting coat rack extremely well. Holding that pump action shotgun ready to use it in a nano-second. Even that gun was harder for her to use. Posed with a question, the director stopped staring at the Clowns with a directors eye who was looking for his newest form of inspiration. The Hollywood side of him almost said yes, just to get the mad man out of here, well the other part of him. Was scared senseless of Joker, and because of that, he said nothing. Much to Harley's dismay.

The clowned man kept up his antics of looking flustered as he sat in his chair, looking towards the director whom remained oddly silent to the whole injucture. Sealed lips, scarred and disfigured from unmentioned torture, would crease into an ugly smile as he'd clap his hands together and raise up to address the crowd. "Alright people, we're losing the light so we've only got one shot at this. Can I get the actor playing me and the actress playing Harley to the set." They'd come up sheepishly, those same two. Fake-Harley in her over dramatic nurses outfit, which in hindsight made no sense at all for the plot even, and Fake-Joker wearing his scrubs with a clean face save for a scar that went along his cheek (and had the audacity to make him look handsomer.) "Now now.. the first thing with directing is we need... real.. to.. life." A single look towards the camera crew, and Joker was keeping his arms out now, moving to the man whom was supposed to be him. Walking along the outter reaches, he'd look him up and down before giving a curious look to Harley wondering if he met her approval. A brief tinge of jealous, before he'd stand down the actor and look at him with a venomous stare. "You.. want to be me? Well... let's fix that." That man would hover abit before he'd wave to the two guards off to the side. A quick rush and he was apprehended on both sides by the thugs, while Joker drew out one of his knives from a holster upon the hip of his jacket. Admiring the blade, a single toss towards one of the guards was given before the man caught it. "Make his face look like mine." To accentuate the statement, he'd trace his scar with that finger and give a deplorable grin in the man's direction. He protested, he screamed no, he fought to save his face. But ultimately he was dragged towards one of the prop car's hoods and thrown on it. Losing interest and not wanting to see the familiar scene, he'd regard Fake-Harley now. "And you want to be Harley? Well.. let me introduce your.. inspiration." He'd flourish his arms in an over dramatized fashion before turning to look at the the clown girl. "Haaaaaaarley." A cry of immense pain from behind him showed the actor wouldn't need make up soon.

If Harls had cared she could have told the director that he'd just unleashed the god of chaos himself out on the set, but she didn't care, so she'd remain silent. Soon the two who where meant to play the clowns would come forward, both of them looking concerned, a saving grace Harley had thought because had they not, they might not have made it, at least this far. The man who was supposed to be Joker, true was handsome, Voted one of the most handsome by People Magazine, you saw pictures the paparazzi took of him wondering around with his shirt off and various women on his arm, a real charmer. The scar made no difference, he still looked like a pretty boy and not a killer. He even had the balls to smile charmingly at Harley Quinn, with his row of perfect white teeth. Not smart on his part, since Joker was standing right next to her. She'd squint at him and try to make out where he was supposed to be Joker. Confused and somewhat applauded when it came to the fake Joker. She wasn't about to care about him when their thugs took him off so he could like Joker. Instead, she was almost worried for her Puddin, because of the familiar scene, but still she watched intrigued. The fake Harley wasn't worried about the fake Joker, already she was a bad Harley. Harley'd pulled herself from the scene with the actor and revealing herself to the fake Harley. The difference between the two woman was almost scary. Harley was short, barely standing five feet, curvious her body fulling out that suit in all the right places, a bottle blonde with her childlish pigtails, her heartshaped face painted white, lips painted that neat black and big blue eyes lined with black. Well the fake Harley? She had to be close to six feet fall, skinny with the exception of her big fake tits, and too sharp in the face. And she was in a nurses outfit, which Harl would bring her attention to, "Why are ya dressed like a nurse if ya supposa be a doctor?"

He'd let Harley continue about her antics, half intrested, half expecting the woman not to be alive for much longer knowing the blonde's mean streak. Taking in the irony of the entire situation, the whoring and glorification of his private torment and the means he took to exorcise the bastardization of his life. Rigid features led him away towards the director whom now had to witness the screams of mortified horror that came from those whom saw the cutting and scissoring of the actor. His stalk continued, fingers stretching and contorting in the gloved stitchings. He'd stoop himself down again and allow his form to lean into the arms of the chair as he spoke. "No. I think I know what this is about. You want to know what everyone has always been dying to know. You want inside my brain." The screams had subsided to petrified sobs as the men would release their hold on the actor, streams of blood oozing down the car, that man sliding down in a river of his own life. "Don't feel so bad. You didn't bring this on him, the world did. And if he's lucky they might be able to fix him, a better chance than I ever had. You want to get inside my head? The thing is.. it's impossible. I don't even know what's up there sometime. I can only make you see.. the cosmic hopelessness of everything. I can take away everything you care about, and leave you.. with your pitiful.. sad life. My world view.. is this." He'd grab the man's face insisting he look at him deeply as he spoke. Quiet, like a man confessing his dying sins to his priest as he spoke. The things passed between them was confidential, and he'd impart the last words with a stern shaking of his hand. Joker rose, ominous, looking back to the disfigured wretch whom was bemoaning about his *fucking face*. A sniff, giving a glance to Harley before he'd move to the man whom was sniffling and such, Joker stooped down to the actor and moved to pat him. He jerked away violently, and had his hair grasped to hold him in place. "Feeling abit stingy? I've got good news for you." The gun, a side arm, was drawn from behind his back and slapped into the man's hand. He quickly turned the gun properly so the man was holding it securely, and Joker would smile as he spoke. "We're not going to be able to make things right. But.. I'm going to teach you the first lesson about being me. Are you listening?"

The screams from the actor where haunting, they where the kind of screams that forced your heart to stop. Even Harley was having a hard time not being effected by it, not because of that idiot who was getting his face cut up, but it super imposed itself --- her brain brought her to a place Joker had only told her about. But Jack fought them off, that's what he told her, and those where the words that echoed into her brain. Head turning she saw Joker, a different kind of look on her face. Like she was grateful for that monster. The actress had moved to run, and Harl was snapped back to reality. She'd read things this bitch had said, about 'playing' Harl, that she [Harley] was more in love with the fame then Joker. She could have just waited for those heels she was wearing to give away but Harley didn't feel like waiting. Gunpointed, she squeezed the trigger and shot the woman, a bullet flying through her knee destroying it, Harley couldn't tell through the gore if she blew it off her now. Stalking her prey she'd step forward. Now the blonde towered over the other blonde, smirking she'd lower herself down to speak, "Well, I think I took care of the height difference." The woman on the ground was in shock, she didn't quite know what happened to her, the screams of the actor making it heard to speak, "He's in pain, you see if you wanted ta be me, you'd have put a bullet through my Puddin's brain the second he showed his face here. Cuz, ya see, the most important thing about bein' me, isn't da make up, outfits or even the money...it's him. I will never let anything happen to him, as long as him around. I promised myself dat when we were still in Arkham. You don't get that. I'd put a bullet in my own head to save him, now would you do that?" The pain must of have started to stink in or she was showing her true self because the actress was hysterical. "You crazy bitch!" She screamed and Harley giggled putting the barrel to the other woman's temple "Yah, I get that a lot."

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notes; so you can't tell it but he does have his scars. you'll just have to look really close. and harley is a blonde i just fucked up the colors but went with it. the pair looked so awesome with minimal effects so I didn't want to over do anything.

as for the log, it's kind of tongue and cheek. people pretending to be joker and harley and getting famous from it. hell i'm guilty of it to some degree as well.

but it also kind of brings up an interesting question, the joker and harley quinn would probably be considered main streams in popular culture if they where real. well they're a menance in gotham, they might be glorified in hollywood. so i thought it was a cool idea of what would happened if someone made a movie of their life, when they're still alive and well.