With one leg propped up on the dead body of one of his henchmen like some sort of sick piece of ottoman furniture, the Joker looked extremely bored and disatisfied. The remaining henchmen we're busy cleaning up the mess and discussed what had just transpired. Apparently, Judy had been trying to make off deals with the Scarecrow, trying to synthesize a combination party drug derived from Joker venom and Scarecrow's fear serum. The Joker wasn't pleased at sharing his secret recipe. "How long do you think he knew?" they quipped, wondering why he never said anything and just decided to torture Judy with a rotating blades of death weed eater he made with the parts he brought back. The Joker had his eyes on the TV, as if he was the only one in the room. His men knew that the Joker knew people talked about him, questioned his sanity, it was only their loyalty that kept them safe. A yawn escaped his throat as he watched the two robots on the news talk about some hippie gathering.<br/><br/>"Ya know boss, I think those hippies are firing it up all over there."<br/><br/>No reply, the Joker wasn't amused.<br/><br/>"Eh, maybe go out there and cause some trouble? Maybe you'll catch Bat's attention?"<br/><br/>Ah they genuinely cared. They saw their boss upset and wanted to help. The conversation died as tension filled the room when the Joker paid them no heed. Then... There she was. The reporter on the scene. Trishell. Trishell what? Oh poo! But something about her struck him. As she talked, he analyzed her mannerisms, body movement, everything. He found himself leaning forward on his elbows placed upon his thighs, the flickering TV light illuminating his pale face.<br/><br/>"Look at them legs boys!" one of the henchmen quipped.<br/><br/>"She reminds me of Harley!" The Joker stood up instantly, fierce anger on his face as he hastily and clumsily went to retrieve his revolver from his lapel.<br/><br/>"OH SHIT!" "FUCK!" "WATCHOUT!" "NO BOSS!" panicked screams erupted from the men as they scattered for their lives to the cacaphony of bullets the Joker fired into the TV. After the silence settled in with a series of frustrated clicks of an empty gun, the men peeked out of hiding. The Joker stood, his head cocked to the side as he stared down on the TV.<br/><br/>"She's not blonde boss." a quivered statement meowed out.<br/><br/>"You don't know what your talking about." The Joker snided as he turned and walked out of the Hotel room and off into the night, his boys heard him reloading the six-shooter. The scrambled away after him.<br/><br/>"I hate when he gets random."