Harley fuckin' Quinn (

There was a clatter. Shouts, gunshots. The tell-tale sound of mallet on skull.

Harley could have taken them all out with just her hands, but she liked to use the mallet.

She strolled into the room, dressed in a t-shirt declaring "Daddy's Lil Monster" and short shorts. Her mallet was bloody and she looked both thrilled and grossed out. "That'll never come out!" Click click click, her heels on the cement of the jail. She swung the keys by the ring. "Hey, Puddin, what's up?"

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