Laughter is the Best Medicine

[harlequin]

Night falls on Gotham General Hospital, bringing with it the usual chaos of the evening. Mugging victims, gang-related shootings, drunk driving accidents, and drug overdoses are all par for the course of tonight's emergency ward shenanigans. And that's not to mention all the other hospital patients and visitors taking up temporary residence in the building, from the sick children to the ailing elderly and everyone in between.

One of the candystripers traipsing about looks more like a sexy Halloween costume party-goer than a proper medical nurse, with a pair of platinum blonde pigtails framing a face accentuated with heavy black eyeliner and bright red lipstick, topped by a prim little nurse's hat, and a pair of tall white fishnet stockings added to match the short-skirted nurse's outfit. Even a casual observer might be able to deduce that she's not an actual hospital employee, but with the hectic disorder keeping the real staff busy, and the flirty winks she's sent to any male doctors who glanced her way, she's managed to avoid questioning thus far.

Pushing her cart down the sterile hallway, Harley hums a merry little tune to herself as she heads for her intended destination, running across fewer people as she gets further away from the main hospital areas. As she nears the control room, she stops and looks around for a moment before spotting the unlucky sap that will become her means to an end. Taking something from her cart, she sashays up to the janitor with both hands behind her back as he's mopping the mostly-abandoned hallway, flashing him a winning smile when he looks up at the rhythmic clicks of her heels against the tile floor. "'Scuse me, mister... Can you help me with something?" Of course, he's far too eager to help the leggy blonde nurse with whatever she might need, and Harley rewards his ambition by bringing her arm around to suddenly press a cloth up against his face, inquiring as she does so: "Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?"

As he crumples to the ground a moment later, Harley leans over to neatly pluck the security card from his belt loop. "Guess so." Walking back over to the control room door, she swipes the card through the reader to gain access, pushing her cart through the doorway before locking it behind her again. Scanning the room for the intake source of the hospital's ventilation system, Harley fishes out the canisters of Joker gas from inside the cart and lines them up in front of the grated vent...though per her boss's instructions, she doesn't set them off just yet. With everything set up and ready to go for when her partner in crime makes his debut, she turns her head to speak into the small microphone pinned to the collar of her costume. "All ready for your grand entrance, Mistah J..."

[joker]

Waiting impatiently in the hospital's subterranean basement was hardly The Joker's idea of time well spent. He'd already disposed of the sadly inept crew that had, until recently, staffed the lower floor's morgue, and had been sitting boredly, waiting for the signal, for nearly five whole minutes. Left with nothing and no one with which to entertain himself, he'd occupied a small portion of his time by further altering his appearance. Passing through Gotham General's overcrowded hallways would be substantially easier if he encountered no obstacles, along the way. The adjustments to his wardrobe that had been made during his stay in the morgue would almost certainly guarantee him a clear path for his journey. Tapping the earpiece that was hidden within the recesses of tonight's costume, an unintelligible grumble escaped his lips, as his impatience began to grow. Just as he began to contemplate how easy it would be to find a replacement henchwench, he heard a faint crackle as the message that he'd been waiting for finally came through.

Smiling broadly to himself, the moment he heard that all was ready, the frustration of only seconds ago seemed to melt away, replaced by an almost childlike glee as he stepped out of the morgue and into the waiting elevator that would take him from the land of the dead into the land of the soon to be deceased, once his plan was set into action.

Arriving on the hospital's main floor, Joker stepped from the elevator, into the hectic back and forth of Gotham General's critical care area. Thoroughly amused with the reaction that he was getting from onlookers, as he passed through hallway after hallway, he couldn't help but pause to admire his handiwork in the reflective glass that separated the corridor from a nurses station. Draped in a long, green surgical gown, his ghostly white hands covered by tight, purple, nitrile gloves, his face obscured by the shiny plastic splash guard that was strapped around his head, he appeared every bit the proper surgeon, just finished with a rather lengthy autopsy - complete with freshly splattered blood dotting nearly every inch of his wardrobe, with a particular concentration of splatters and drips across the carefully placed splash guard, just for good measure. Giggling with self-satisfaction, Gotham's most notorious continued on down the labyrinth of corridors, until he found the one that he'd been seeking. Littered with a recently knocked out janitor, it didn't take much to know that this was the place. Kicking the unconscious man aside, The Joker approached the control room door, not even bothering to try the knob, instead simply pounding on the door, as his legendary impatience began to resurface.

[harlequin]

Harley manages to entertain herself as she waits for the Joker to arrive, sitting on the edge of the control panel and filing her nails, and sparing occasional glances towards the camera feeds for signs of any trouble. The sudden poundings against the door take her by surprise, the nurse-costumed woman jumping in place. "Eep!" Who could it...oh, right. In her eagerness to ensure that no unwanted guests crashed their little control room party, she had locked out her own partner in crime as well...oops.

She quickly darts across the small room to unbolt the door, swinging it open to reveal the Joker in a bloody surgical uniform...which, of course, doesn't faze the quirky clown girl in the slightest.

"Sorry, Mistah J! Er-- I mean, Doctor J," she corrects herself even in the midst of her apology, anxiously biting at her lower lip and hoping he's not too upset with her. After all, at least she hasn't messed up their plans...yet!

Backing away, Harley retreats to the control panel once more, though she's careful to stay out of the Joker's way in the already somewhat cramped room lest she incur his wrath further. Gesturing grandly towards the several screens displaying video feeds from different areas of the hospital with a wave of her arm, the blonde flicks the switch on the intercom microphone before inviting her boss to begin his performance. "Your audience awaits..."