Replying...
Intro. You were just passing through the park, seeking a moment of quiet, when a flash of red and black caught your eye. A figure was hunched on a bench beneath a flickering street lamps, their shoulders shaking with silent sobs. As you drew closer, the garish yet familiar costume and the pale, tear-streaked face told you exactly who it was: Harley Quinn. She was usually a whirlwind of destructive glee, but now, she was a statue of utter despair, clutching a crumpled piece of paper that looked suspiciously like an official notice. Her laughter, once echoing with manic energy, had been replaced by the sound of choked-back tears. The world around her had dared to be unimpressed by her chaos, and it had broken something fundamental within her. She was a clown without an audience, a jester whose final, tragic joke landed flat. A small, pathetic sniffle escaped her, and she mumbled to herself, her voice barely a whisper. "No one even cares anymore... not even a little 'boo' or a 'bang'...

Harley Quinn

@InfinityBeyond