Harley, looked everywhere for Hisoka and she eventually spotted him before he saw her. Or maybe he let her. That was the thing about Hisoka—he always seemed to be in control, even when he wasn't. Perched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, Hisoka sat cross-legged, a card dancing between his fingers like a living thing. The moonlight painted him in pale silver, the wind teasing his hair as he stared down at Gotham, quiet and still. She took a breath and stepped closer, her boots crunching lightly on the gravel.
"Y'know, most folks in this town don't loiter on rooftops unless they got a cape or a death wish," Harley quipped, her voice carrying a playful lilt. She tilted her head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and caution.
Hisoka tilted his head in return, his crimson eyes sliding toward her like a predator sizing up its prey. "And you?" he asked, his voice smooth and low, almost purring.
Harley grinned, her painted lips stretching wide. "Me? I'm just curious. Been hearin' whispers 'bout you, sugar. Figured I'd come see what all the fuss is about."
Hisoka chuckled, a sound that was both warm and unsettling. He stood with a smooth shift of weight, his movements fluid and deliberate, like a cat stretching after a nap. He stepped toward her, close enough for her to feel the weight of his gaze. "Curious, are you?" he murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what did you hear?"
"Oh, y'know," Harley said, twirling a pigtail around her finger. "Bodies showin' up like performance art. Crime lords disappearin' without a trace. Real spooky stuff." She leaned in, her grin widening. "Gotta say, you got style."
"Flattery," Hisoka mused, his lips curling into a sly smile. "But I suspect you didn't come all this way just to compliment me."
"Smart boy," Harley said, tapping a finger to her temple. "See, Gotham's got its share of heavy-hitters, and if you're plannin' to play, you might wanna know who else is in the sandbox."
Hisoka raised a brow, his interest clearly piqued. "Go on."
Harley leaned against the ledge, her mallet resting casually at her side. She began ticking names off on her fingers, each one dripping with a mix of admiration and disdain. "First, you got Killer Croc. Big, scaly, and mean as hell. Lives in the sewers, likes to snack on folks who wander too close. He ain't much for conversation."
Hisoka hummed, his expression unimpressed. "A brute. Not very interesting."
"Eh, depends on what you're into," Harley said with a shrug. "Croc's got his charm, if you're into the whole 'monster in the dark' thing. He's been around for years, workin' as muscle for the mob before he decided he'd rather be the boss. Now he's got his own little empire down in the sewers. But yeah, he's more brawn than brains. Still, you don't wanna underestimate him. He's got a mean streak a mile wide, and he don't take kindly to trespassers."
Hisoka's smirk deepened. "I'll keep that in mind."
Killer Croc, or Waylon. He Was born with a unique genetic abnormality that gave him reptile traits, and he was shunned by society from an early age. He turned to crime for survival, carving out a niche for himself in Gotham's underbelly with his incredible power and savagery. Over time, he accepted his hideous look and became a genuine predator in the sewers. Despite his brutality, Croc possesses a weird sense of honor and has been known to defend the innocent on rare instances. His lair under the sewers is a maze of traps and hazards, making him a dangerous opponent to anybody who tries to enter his territory.
"Then there's Bane," Harley continued, her tone shifting slightly. "Big guy, loves his venom. Breaks backs for fun. Real charmer."
Hisoka tilted his head, his interest flickering. "Strength... predictable."
Harley chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "Oh, you ain't seen him in action, sweetie. Guy's more than just muscles. He plans every move, waits for the right moment. Bane don't just fight. He hunts. He's got this whole philosophy about pain and suffering, says it's the only way to truly understand someone. He's been known to take down entire armies just to prove a point. And that venom of his? It's not just a steroid. It's a weapon. Makes him stronger, faster, and completely unstoppable. But it's also his Achilles' heel. Take away his venom, and he's just a man. A very, very angry man."
Hisoka's smirk widened. "Hunting is only fun if the prey knows the game."
Born in the cruel Santa Prisca jail, Bane was forced to serve his father's life sentence growing up. The severe jail conditions shaped him into a physical and intellectual monster. Bane's skill of tactics and warfare is unparalleled, and his use of Venom—a substance that boosts his strength to extraordinary levels—makes him a near-invincible opponent. However, Bane's dependency on Venom is also his most significant vulnerability. Without it, he remains a powerful opponent, but not unbeatable. Bane's ultimate purpose is to establish his supremacy, which he typically does by attacking Gotham's most powerful individuals.
"Guessin' you like the brains more than the brawn?" Harley teased, her grin returning. "In that case, you'd love Ra's al Ghul. Immortal nutjob with a thing for cleansing the world. Runs a league of ninja assassins. Real 'end-of-the-world' vibes."
Hisoka's smile grew, his eyes gleaming with genuine interest. "Now that sounds intriguing. Immortality... does he share?"
"Eh, depends," Harley said with a wink. "You gotta be real persuasive, and maybe not so stab-happy. Ra's is all about balance, y'see. He thinks the world's gone to hell, and it's his job to fix it. Problem is, his idea of 'fixing' usually involves a lot of death and destruction. He's got this whole Lazarus Pit thing—dips himself in it to stay young and spry. But it comes with a price. Messes with your head, makes you a little... unstable. Still, he's one of the smartest guys in Gotham. Maybe even the world. If you're lookin' for a challenge, he's your guy."
Hisoka's chuckle was low and dark. "I do enjoy a challenge."
Ra's al Ghul is centuries-old. hehas dedicated his life to restoring world balance. He leads the League of Shadows, which is made up of highly trained assassins. Ra's is a superb strategist, swordsman, and philosopher with a profound insight of human nature. His access to the Lazarus Pits gives him immortality, but each use comes at a cost: greater instability and a growing disconnect from mankind. Ra's considers himself a necessary evil, prepared to perpetrate atrocities for the greater good. His ultimate objective is to rid the globe of corruption, even if it means eliminating whole civilizations.
"Then there's Scarecrow," Harley said, her tone shifting again, this time to something more ominous. "Doc Crane. Real piece of work. Likes to make people see their worst fears with his special gas. Creepy as hell, but kinda poetic, y'know?"
Hisoka's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Fear is such a wonderful tool. I might enjoy him."
Harley twirled her mallet, resting it on her shoulder. "Oh, you two would hit it off. You both got that 'artist with a dark side' thing goin' on. Just don't inhale the gas, unless you wanna see what makes ya scream in the dark."
Dr. Jonathan Crane is one bright but twisted psychologist who has become fascinated with the notion of terror. After being sacked from his academic post for unethical research, Crane assumed the character of the Scarecrow and terrorized Gotham. His Fear Toxin is a psychological weapon that makes victims to confront their worst fears, frequently driving them insane. Scarecrow is not a physical warrior, depending instead on his intelligence and the psychological pain he causes. His gaunt, skeleton look and frightening manner make him one among Gotham's most menacing villains.
Hisoka laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down Harley's spine. "Screaming in the dark sounds... delightful."
She grinned. "Figured you'd say that."
They stood in silence for a moment, the city sprawling beneath them like a living, breathing entity. Finally, Hisoka spoke, his voice cutting through the night like a blade.
"And what about you, Harley? Are you a heavy-hitter? Or just a messenger?"
Her grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Me? I'm the wildcard, puddin'. The one who flips the table when the game gets boring."
Hisoka's eyes glimmered, his smile turning almost predatory. "Delightful."
She offered her hand, her grin never wavering. "So... what d'ya say? Partners in crime?"
Hisoka took her hand, his grip light but cold, like the touch of a ghost.
"Sure darling, now let's go...we got a lot to do."
She walked with him, hand in hand...delighted at the fact that she found herself a new psychopath to love, someone more deranged.
Hisoka, on the other hand, couldn't hide his grin. Who knows what he's plotting... What kind of twisted trick is he thinking about?