Did you know how much planning went into celebrations?
I didn't.
I absolutely fucking regret it.
"You want me to produce how many potions!?" I was on the brink of ripping my hair out as I stared at my planning department, which essentially consisted of Cobblepot and any bookie who had financial experience or planning skills.
If it weren't for these hours, I might have found it amusing to have guys who planned heists doing the décor, but right now…
Oswald sniffed at me in disdain. "Whose idea was it to allow the members to bring their friends and family!?"
"Ugh… but…" I couldn't even finish the sentence as I caught glares from pretty much everyone in the room. Man… those were some pretty dark circles under their eyes. "Me…"
"Damn right." Cobblepot rubbed his eyes. "It's standard fare to have more drinks prepared than your party size. Alcohol disappears like hotcakes at weddings and parties. Your potions—even if they're used in mixers—will obviously go fast. It doesn't help that your damn open invite makes it impossible for us to estimate how many people will show up."
"Right." I groaned. Long hours, it is.
It'll be worth it. Ruining the Joker was worth it, even if I won't be getting any sleep.
—
"And you know what he did…." The weeping voice of Harley Quinn came through my phone.
"What'd he do?" I said while tweaking one of the cocktail recipes. My hands moved as I worked with beakers, trying to get the perfect level of kick.
"He used me as a shield!" Harley's voice cracked while crying. "Then he told that Punchline bitch to throw me at Deathstroke! Is it because she's young, the fucking whore…"
"That bastard!" I agreed absentmindedly as I squeezed some more lime for acidity. The mixture fizzled and turned purple, the aroma coming out much stronger.
Do I need to make it sweeter, maybe…
"After all these years! And you know what he said when I called him? Batman this, Batman that. Batman cut off his dick and balls. Nothing about me!"
"That bastard!" I said again. I took a sip. Hmmm… a little bit better than before, but something's missing.
"RIGHT!" Harley's voice had reached a shrill pitch. "You know what, I'm done!"
"Yeah!" I piped into the phone while searching the fridge.
"No more Mr. J for me," Harley said. "Time for a new Harley Quinn era."
"Yeah!" I answered absentmindedly. Ah, there were the lemons.
"I'll reinvent myself." Harley perked up. "That big party of yours… can I come?"
"Yeah!" I said automatically as I added the lemon juice. Ah, there we go. Perfect.
"Thanks, Jean, you're the best! You just know what a girl needs. See you then."
The call clicked off.
I paused.
The seven-hour call with Harley Quinn had mostly been autopilot for me.
But…
Did I just accept Harley Quinn coming to 'reinvent' herself at my party?
"Shiiiiit."
—
"So you're throwing a whole party to celebrate the Joker getting his nuts and shaft snipped by the Bat?" Red Hood looked at me and snickered.
"I mean… not just that…"
"Oh, so the various carnival games and decorations of the Joker screaming while getting his balls cut off just aren't a thing." He turned and pointed toward the various parts of the venue I'd commissioned.
"I mean every festival needs a theme…"
Red Hood doubled over and snickered. "Crazy. You're fucking crazy."
"You can slander me some other time, traitorous honorary member." I shoved a stack of tickets for the special areas I'd set up into his hands. "Here. Do your freaking job."
"These are…?" Red Hood looked down at the tickets.
"VIP passes basically. For the good good shit. I couldn't produce enough of the super high-quality alcohol, so I had to make a list. Invite anybody you think should be there."
Red Hood rubbed his chin, then giggled. "You know… I think I do know somebody who should be there."
"Anybody I know?"
"Well, how'd you like it if I could get Bruce Wayne… to attend?"
"For real!? Bruce Wayne? You've got a connection with him?" I shot up from my chair. "That'd be good as hell for our reputation."
There wasn't a Gothamite in this damn city who hadn't been helped by the Waynes in some way. Whether it was the Wayne Foundation, the kitchens they sponsored, or the job programs they offered.
"You sure he'd come through?"
"Oh, don't worry. I'll make sure of it." Red Hood chuckled. "He'll love it."
—
Whew. Barely made it, but I did it.
Potions were all brewed. The venue was all set up. Invitations to the bigwigs had all been sent out.
Now it was just the wait for the countdown to one of the biggest "fuck yous" to the Joker ever.
I looked up at the sky and took in the moon. I was wandering through Gotham on a random walk, just letting luck take me where it wanted. Surprisingly, the streets were quiet.
"I guess I can't always run into crazy shit…"
I felt the two tickets in my pocket. I still had two extra VIP passes.
What should I—
Huh.
Off to the side of the street stood John Constantine, talking to a blond man in a suit with a black-haired woman beside him. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but John suddenly stormed off.
Heh. Bastard probably deserved it.
Welp…
"Hey!" I jogged over and pulled out the two tickets. The pair looked at me a little strangely, but I didn't mind. "Goonion's running a big festival soon, and I've got some extra VIP tickets. You want 'em?"
The blond-haired man looked extremely amused.
"Well, we can't refuse free tickets, can we, Maze?"
He took them from my hand.
I just grinned and patted the guy on the shoulder.
"See you there!"
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on my Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.