The Death knell

A few days ago, her dearest little pudding sent her a letter from Akamuto. The envelope was scrawled with symbols and languages indecipherable to ordinary people, written in red ink that looked disturbingly like blood. Lipstick marks were scattered across the paper.

But Harley knew it was real. This was their special way of communicating—a secret code that only they could understand. It was their little secret. Every time she thought about it, she felt a rush of sweetness.

When the nervous prison guard handed her the letter before running out of the circus in terror, Harley hugged the thin envelope to her chest, joy lighting up her face. She twirled around the room, spinning with delight.

Rigoletto had been locked up by the Bat in Arkham for more than half a year, and Harley missed her terribly.

Receiving the letter felt like getting a Christmas gift as a child, tasting chocolate for the first time, or secretly trying on high heels.

This happiness was so overwhelming that she forgot all about beating the messenger with a sledgehammer. She had planned to disguise herself as a guard and sneak into Arkham to rescue her Fool.

With one hand, she shyly twirled the ends of her hair like a lovestruck schoolgirl. With the other, she pulled out a kitchen knife from nowhere and eagerly sliced open the envelope.

But her happiness was short-lived. As she read the words, her face fell. She couldn't help but scream, "No! This can't be true!"

The Fool's letter read:

"Dear little pumpkin, how are you? I have great news—the world's ending, and we're all going to die! Aren't you thrilled?"

"Oh, death—such a beautiful word. I've changed into my best clothes and am ready for the end!"

"I ate a dried-up roast goose today. What about you?"

"Mr. Spoon doesn't talk to me much anymore."

"Before the world ends, can you bring the Bat to see me? I'd rather die with her. You can take a cab home by yourself."

"That's all. Hurry up, okay?"

Although the iconic laughter couldn't be heard, the messy handwriting and disjointed sentences were unmistakably hers.

The crooked letters were surrounded by random doodles—her smiling face drawn over and over again. There were even dried stains on the paper that looked like snot or saliva. The Fool must have been ecstatic while writing this.

But Harley was devastated. She had waited so long for this letter, only to receive such nonsensical words.

Yes, she knew the world was ending. She could already imagine the beautiful chaos of humanity's final moments. That part made her a little happy... but the rest of the letter was heartbreaking.

The Fool was still obsessed with the Bat, treating Harley like an errand girl or a driver. They had promised to be each other's forever, to be each other's snacks. Little pumpkin and little pudding, together always...

Laughing hysterically, Harley set fire to the room and smashed everything in sight, venting her frustration. But she still did what the Fool asked. After all, they were best friends.

Of course, Harley never doubted the Fool. The world ending? It had to be true.

She mobilized the entire circus, sending them across Gotham City to search for any sign of the Bat.

But no matter how much chaos they caused, only the dull city police showed up. Batgirl was nowhere to be seen.

For three nights straight, Harley caused trouble as soon as it got dark, only to return home exhausted at dawn without a trace of the Bat. It was as if she had vanished.

"Maybe she went on vacation... Paris or somewhere," Harley mused.

She left massive signs on rooftops and alleys where the Bat was known to lurk, each one with a cartoonish finger pointing toward Harley's home. She was certain the Bat would follow the scent.

Then she waited.

At first, she tried reading, but it was too easy to fall asleep. So the next night, she drank while reading. By the third night, she was drinking and dancing.

Before she knew it, waiting for the Bat turned into a nightly celebration of the world's impending doom.

But her circus companions were too scared to join her, unwilling to risk a hammer to the head. Feeling lonely, Harley called her other friends, turning her home into a place of round-the-clock carnivals.

Meanwhile, the Fool waited in the madhouse, growing crazier with each passing day. Why hadn't Harley brought the Bat yet? Why was she taking so long? Laughter echoed through her cell, more hysterical than ever.

Eventually, a mysterious tape was smuggled out of her room by the prison guards and ended up in the hands of Deathstroke. Cindy received orders to find the Bat as well, just before meeting Albert.

Harley stood panting, gripping a steel pipe as she glared at the person on the sofa. Then they both burst into laughter. Harley's knees buckled as she stumbled toward the sofa, ready to roughhouse with her friend.

Just then, she noticed someone else in the room. Standing in the shadows, dressed in black and yellow armor—the unmistakable warning colors of nature—was a figure watching them in silence.

The red eye on his helmet glowed ominously, reflecting the light. Even Harley couldn't help but gasp, "Oh..."

It was Deathstroke, the world-renowned assassin. Not exactly the person you want lurking in your living room.

"Deathstroke? Why are you in my house?" Harley slurred, her face flushed from drinking.

"I need an answer, and you might have it," Cindy demanded without pretense. "Where's the Bat?"

"Why is everyone looking for that stinky Bat..." Harley groaned, stumbling back to the sofa and clinging to her friend.

Albert stepped out of the shadows, whispering to Cindy, "Looks like the Fool sent her on the same mission as us."

"Why not just go to Arkham and ask?" Cindy suggested.

"No need. The Fool doesn't know. If Harley, who she trusts the most, is clueless, then the Fool is just as lost as we are," Albert concluded, watching Harley's drunken antics.

Cindy nodded. "You came here to confirm whether the Fool knew about the Bat. Smart. Harley's easier to understand than the Fool."

But that didn't change the fact that they were stuck.

Harley suddenly looked up. "Wait... why are there two Deathstrokes?" She rubbed her eyes, her jaw dropping as she looked from Albert to Cindy. "Did I drink too much... or not enough?"

She remembered her mission and yelled, "I was supposed to find the Bat! Ms. J will hate me!"

She looked around, trying to remember if Batgirl had come and gone without her noticing. But with the constant partying, who could remember?

Frustrated, she slapped her friend on the sofa. "You never reminded me!"

The woman on the sofa just laughed. With long red hair and green vines barely covering her figure, Poison Ivy hugged Harley, her eyes narrowing as she turned to Cindy and Albert.

It was going to be a long 🌙