"Forget it, I'll just take a break when the sun rises... Fourth floor is secure."
Su Ming followed her into the fourth-floor corridor, where the rooms on both sides were empty, except for everywhere adorned with Joker symbols: a pale smiling face with Xs replacing the eyes, the walls painted in a riot of colors, like a den of chaos.
The small rooms mostly held some miscellaneous items, nothing useful, primarily 'prank' supplies like TNT, 'laughing gas', and automatic rifles, along with a big pile of oversized red rockets resembling giant 'bottle rockets'.
"Harley's just upstairs, the music is directly above us," Cindy pointed overhead.
"Strange, we sounded like we were demolishing the building just now, and yet she didn't react? Sounds like she's still dancing?" Su Ming tilted his head to listen, still able to hear the rhythmic clacking of high-heeled boots.
Cindy had no comment on this; living in Gotham taught her one thing—don't try to understand what goes on in a madman's mind.
Gotham, famous for its legendary figures, had seen the emergence of many talents: Ventriloquist, Dr. Hugo, Zas, Pigface, Silent Actor, Weird Girl, Lady Aidan, and so on, all of them lunatics and psychopaths.
Suddenly she realized that the long list in her mind was mostly composed of her old clients; no wonder some missions in the past were inexplicable from start to finish.
To be honest, although she had accepted Su Ming's theory earlier, she didn't really believe Harley would know any critical information. Harley seemed more like the Jester's close-up audience for his magic, rather than the performer herself.
If Cindy had a choice, she'd rather seek out Talia from the Shadow Dancer League. The relationship between her and Batwoman was strange, with a higher likelihood of knowing Briss' whereabouts. Even if Talia didn't know, she still had the whole Assassin Alliance to tap into; at least they were experts in intelligence gathering.
"Let's go up. Since we're here, it doesn't hurt to ask."
She finished speaking, then led the way in the direction of the music, making her way down the long corridor to a tightly closed door.
They exchanged a glance and pushed open the door.
The room behind the door was like a circus-themed nightclub, the colorful lights swirling madly with the music. Various circus props and inexplicable items were piled in the corners of the room, like inflatable dumbbells, towering funhouse mirrors, big bouncy balls, and fire hoops used in animal shows.
However, in the massive dance floor's center stood only Harley Quinn, grasping a steel pole, flipping up and down, performing an array of incredibly flexible maneuvers.
The spotlight focused on her as beads of glistening sweat flew off with her rapid spins, her red and blue pigtails blooming like flowers in mid-air.
She wasn't dressed in her black-and-red outfit but wore a short-sleeve T-shirt and denim shorts, revealing a delightful figure and delicate skin, eyes closed, indulging in the joy of dancing. Her face reflected utter bliss, as if she possessed the entire world.
Clutching the pole, she fluttered like a butterfly, while Cindy, showing great disdain for this tomboy act, thought: what was up with this big woman learning pole dancing like a man? Unbelievable madness.
She nudged Su Ming, who seemed to be mesmerized, leaning in to whisper:
"There's someone else on the sofa at four o'clock in the dance floor."
Su Ming saw it too, was just about to tell her, and there sat someone with their back to them, the top of their head barely peeking out above the tall sofa back, nodding rhythmically with the music—a guest of Harley's, from the looks of it.