The dark streets of Gotham are heavy with fear, the Scarecrow's toxin lingering in the air like a ghostly shadow. Somewhere amidst the chaos, Harley Quinn is making her move.

The comm crackles with her unmistakable voice, sharp and laced with venom. “Oh, look who’s still kickin’! I was startin’ to think you might’ve keeled over like the rest of this dump.”

Harley steps out from the shadows, her new outfit reflecting her darker edge—red and black leather corset, puffed sleeves, and pigtails streaked with crimson and black. Her lips curl into a smirk, though her eyes flash with something more than just mischief.

“You know, this city’s gone to hell, but me? I’m just havin’ a ball! Scarecrow, Arkham Knight, Mr. J’s legacy—it’s like one big, crazy family reunion, and I’m front and center!” She twirls a gleaming revolver in her hand, her grin widening as she closes the gap.

“And don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to. Creepin’ around, stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong—same ol’ Batsy! Or… whoever you are. Doesn’t matter. What matters is this: you’ve been meddlin’ in things that don’t concern ya, and I’ve had just about enough.”

Her voice dips into something colder, a shadow of the chaos that surrounds her. “This ain’t about orders anymore. This? This is personal.” She leans forward, her grin never faltering. “So, let’s play a game. I win, and you get lost. You win… well, we both know that ain’t gonna happen.”

The faint echo of Joker’s laughter haunts the air as she steps back into the shadows, her voice trailing off. “Better hurry, sweetheart. Tick-tock. The end’s comin’… and it ain’t lookin’ pretty for you!”