Three to get ready…

"Well, that was a little anti-climatic, no?"

She dropped the bloodied hammer to the ground as she heard the familiar voice,

"Mister J! What are you doing here?"

"Just checking in on my number one girl"

"Yeah, and whaddaya think of my handiwork so far?"

Joker walked into the room, and leaned over to pick up the hammer.

"I like your-constructive work"

They both smiled at the pun. Harley realized then that she was still ever so slightly aroused from her word-play with Redgie. She coyly stepped closer to Joker, closing the gap between them, and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

"Yeah? So do I get a gold star already, or maybe something else?"

She pressed herself against him. Joker couldn't deny his feelings-he wanted her. He'd seen her kill, and knew that he could trust her to follow his every order. But she still had one thing left to do.

"Two out of three ain't half bad, Har, but you need to finish the job"

He stepped back, and held out the hammer for her. She looked at it glumly, then back at him. She pulled the gun out of her dress then,

"That's what I got this for-grand finale"

He nodded, and pocketed the hammer. It might come in useful later.

"Well then, you'd better do that before it's too late. Your carriage will be turning into a pumpkin any minute now"

"Alright, Mister J, but you'd better be there to take me away to my castle"

She walked out of the room then, and turned to blow a kiss before leaving. Joker mimed catching it, then when she turned her back, he crushed it in his palm.

Harley walked out to the parking lot, rolling the cylinder, slamming it shut and cocking the hammer one last time. There was just one car left-her father's. He stood outside of the old Volkswagen, leaning against the hood and mumbling at something in his hand. As Harley got closer, she moved her arms to link her hand behind her back and hide the gun.

"Watcha doing, Daddy?"

He looked up then, a look of anger, but he quickly masked it with a fake smile.

"There's my girl! Been trying to call you on your cell for the last ten minutes. I wanted to talk to you about the break-in at the house today"

He held up his hand to show her his cell, the luminescent light shined into Harley's face. Instinctively, she brought a hand out to shield her eyes. But at the last second, she realized it was the hand holding the gun. It was too late-Peter Quinn's eyes rested on the weapon.

"Wha-what's that for, sweetie?"

"Oh this?"

She held it aloft,

"It's just a prop, we were playing backstage after the show. Ya know, like when I was a kid, we'd play cops and robbers?"

Some of his fear seemed to dissipate, but he still seemed wary.

"Oh yeah, but aren't you a little old for that?"

"Of course not! We should play now"

She held the gun aloft, and mimed shooting it, making 'bam, bam' noises with every 'shot'. She used her other hand to hold up the skirt of the gown, and started to jog around, firing 'shots' at him from over her shoulder. He quickly joined in, caught up in the guilt of how cruel he'd been to his only daughter over the years. He put his hands together and made a 'gun', and started to return fire.

Harley then squeezed the trigger for real, letting the heated rage from all the anger in her life flow from her heart out to her fingertips. But nothing happened. She was caught off guard, but only for a moment-there were only three bullets, and this was a ten-chamber gun. She started to just start pulling back on the trigger, over and over again, until finally a shot erupted from the chamber. Peter Quinn stopped playing then, and looked at his daughter. He furrowed his eyebrows and dropped his hands from his 'gun'.

"Harley? What's going on?"

The shot had missed-and she had only two more chances. She leveled the gun again, pointed it directly at his chest and fired. Peter Quinn stepped back, and brought a hand up to his chest. As he pulled it away, and looked his palm, he saw blood. She'd shot him-his own daughter.

"Harley-why, why are you doing this?"

He started to walk towards her, then stumbled and fell to his knees. She let one hand fall back to her dress, and held up the skirts so she could walk up to him. When she stood directly in front of him, she crouched down and looked him straight in the eye,

"You've been a terrible father. But-I have to thank you for helping make me the way I am"

She placed the gun on the ground beside her, and then put her hands gingerly on his cheeks, pulled his head slightly down, and kissed him softly on the forehead. Then, she leaned to his left and placed her mouth just beside his ear,

"I never loved you more than I will after you're gone"

She pulled the last card out, the King of Spades, and pressed it to his forehead. There was so much sweat pouring from his skin that the card stuck in place. Harley stood back up then, picking up the gun. Peter Quinn leaned forward, grasping the sides of her skirts in his hands, the blood from his hand smeared down the lace, staining it,

"Please, Harley, don't do this"

He choked, coughing blood out of his mouth.

She then put the end of the barrel up against his forehead, pressing the end of the barrel against the card; where she'd kissed him only moments before. Then, she cocked the trigger,

"Goodbye, Daddy"

And fired.