Chapter 134: The Clown Princess of Crime and the Monte Cristo Sandwich
The air in the Dimensional Restaurant didn't just stand still; it seemed to hold its breath in sheer confusion.
In the center of the wooden floor, the intruder remained frozen in her aerodynamic pose—torso bent forward at a sharp forty-five-degree angle, arms thrown back like swept-back wings, and head dipped low. It was the quintessential "Ninja Run" posture, a stance popularized by a certain orange-clad shinobi, but utterly bizarre to witness in a high-end dining establishment.
Cerberus, the Guard Dog of the Underworld, blinked her three sets of eyes (figuratively speaking, as she was currently in her single-body triple-personality form). She looked up at Ren, then turned her gaze to Lucifer, and finally back to the colorful stranger.
The hellhound tilted her head. She wasn't stupid—far from it—but her canine brain was struggling to categorize this behavior. Was this a threat? A playmate? Or just a glitch in reality?
Lucifer, the Queen of Hell, sat with her arms crossed, her silver brow furrowed. She studied the girl like one might study a particularly abstract piece of modern art.
"Ren," Lucifer finally broke the silence, her voice dripping with skepticism. "If I recall correctly, didn't Miss Mai Shiranui also enter in a... let's call it 'unconventional' manner?"
Ren stood behind the counter, a towel draped over his shoulder. He looked at the woman who was still holding that ridiculous pose as if waiting for a director to yell 'Cut!'
"Well," Ren murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Mai rolled in due to combat momentum. This... this seems to be a stylistic choice."
He cleared his throat.
"Um... Miss? The door is closed. You can stop running now."
Hearing this, the statue came to life.
The woman snapped her head up.
The first thing that hit them was the color. Her skin was pale, almost chalk-white, contrasting violently with her hair. It was tied into two high pigtails, one dyed a vibrant cotton-candy pink, the other a shocking electric blue. Her makeup was smeared, a heart tattoo adorned her cheekbone, and her clothes—a tattered t-shirt that read 'Daddy's Lil Monster' and fishnet stockings—looked like she had raided a punk rock thrift store during a hurricane.
She blinked, looking around the warm, wood-paneled interior of the restaurant with wide, manic eyes.
Then, she exploded into motion.
"YAY!"
She jumped upright, clapping her hands together with the force of a gunshot. A grin that was slightly too wide for her face stretched across her lips.
"I'm out! I'm finally out! Hahaha!"
She spun around on her heel, pointing a finger gunslinger-style at Ren.
"Hey! Hey, you! Handsome! Did ya do it? Did ya spring me? Did ya blow the wall?"
Ren paused, maintaining his professional composure despite the sudden influx of chaotic energy. He shook his head gently. "No, Miss. I didn't save you. I think you might have—"
"Ha! Good one!" She interrupted him, waving her hand dismissively. "That joke gets a seventy. Solid C-minus. Anyway, gotta fly! Can't keep the world waiting! Thanks for the assist, but a girl's gotta go!"
She pivoted toward the door she had just entered through. She treated the exit like the grand finale of a magic show.
"Open Sesame! Open... SAYS-ME!"
She grabbed the brass handle and threw the door open with a dramatic flourish, fully expecting to see the gritty, rain-slicked streets of Gotham or the high walls of Belle Reve Penitentiary. She was ready to sprint into the night, screaming freedom.
But reality had other plans.
Whoosh.
There was no street. No rain. No police sirens.
There was only light.
A wall of soft, white, impenetrable luminescence swirled outside the door frame. It wasn't blinding, but it was absolute. It was the void between dimensions, the boundary that separated the restaurant from the multiverse.
The woman froze. Her triumphant grin faltered, twitching at the corners.
She stood there for a long ten seconds, the silence stretching thin. Then, with a loud SLAM, she shut the door.
She took a deep breath. She smoothed her hair. She opened the door again.
White light.
SLAM.
She turned around slowly, her expression having shifted from manic joy to genuine bewilderment.
"Hey..." She pointed a trembling thumb over her shoulder. "Handsome. Is this... is this some kinda amusement park ride? Like a VR thing? Because the graphics are killer, but the map isn't loading."
Ren sighed, picking up a glass to polish. "First of all, I didn't save you. Second, this isn't an amusement park, nor is it a visual experience tunnel."
He gestured to the empty tables.
"This is the Dimensional Restaurant. We are located in the gaps between worlds. To put it simply, Miss... you have transmigrated."
The woman blinked. Her mouth formed a perfect 'O'.
"Trans... migrated?"
"Yes," Ren nodded. "Like in those sci-fi novels or anime. You have left your original world."
The woman swallowed hard. Her hands flew up to grab her pigtails, tugging on them as her eyes darted around the room. A strange mix of emotions flashed across her face—fear, confusion, and then, a sudden, terrifying delight.
"Get out!" she shrieked, a laugh bubbling up from her throat. "For real? Like... poof? Gone?"
She looked at her wrists, checking for handcuffs that weren't there. She touched her neck, checking for the explosive nanite collar usually implanted by Amanda Waller.
"There's really such an exciting thing?!" Her grin returned, sharper and wilder than before. "But... which damn bastard brought me here?! Was it Bats? Was it Waller?"
Ren tilted his head, observing her rapid mood swings. "Miss, please calm down. Although you are here, the door works both ways. You can return to your world whenever you wish. You just need to walk through that door with the intent to leave."
The effect was instantaneous.
The woman's shoulders dropped. The manic energy evaporated, replaced by a sudden, heavy slump.
"Oh," she said, her voice small. "You should have said that earlier, Handsome. You're a tease."
She walked over to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, sprawling her legs out in a way that was distinctly un-ladylike.
"So... if I walk out that door... I go back to the Cage?"
"The Cage?" Lucifer echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Cage?" Cerberus tilted her head.
Ren nodded solemnly. "It seems, Miss, you are a prisoner in your own world. I regret to inform you that the door obeys the law of causality. If you were in a cell when the door appeared, you will return to that cell."
The woman slapped a hand to her forehead, groaning loudly. She squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth.
"Of course," she muttered. "Just my luck. Finally find a magic door, and it's a round-trip ticket back to the slammer."
Freedom was a cruel mistress. Having it dangled in front of her, only to realize it was temporary, was a special kind of torture.
Ren, Lucifer, and Cerberus watched her quietly. They didn't intervene. They let her process the reality of her situation.
After a long minute, the woman opened her eyes. She shook her head, as if shaking off the disappointment, and flashed a bright, dazzling smile.
"Whatever!" she declared, slapping the table. "I have to go back eventually. Can't let them think they broke me, right? But hey—"
She looked at Ren, her eyes sparkling.
"You said this is a restaurant, right, Handsome? Then feed me! I'm starving! Prison food is literal garbage. I think I ate a cockroach last Tuesday. Or maybe it was a raisin. Who knows?"
Ren nodded, stepping out from behind the counter to hand her a menu, though he knew she probably wouldn't read it. "Of course. What would you like to eat?"
The woman waved the menu away. "Anything! Anything is fine! As long as it's hot, greasy, and tastes like actual food. Surprise me!"
Ren smiled. "Understood. A surprise it is."
He turned to head back to the kitchen, scooping up Cerberus—who had wandered too close to the guest's boots—on his way.
"Hey! Wait!"
The woman called out just as Ren reached the kitchen curtains.
"Coffee!" she shouted, holding up her hand. "I need coffee. High octane. Lots of milk. And go easy on the sugar, okay? I'm sweet enough already."
"Lots of milk, little sugar. Got it."
Ren disappeared into the kitchen, the noren curtains swaying behind him.
Left alone with the demons, the woman spun her chair around to face them. She propped her chin on her hands, her elbows on the backrest, and grinned at Lucifer and Cerberus.
"So," she drawled, her accent thick and distinctly Gotham. "I like your style, Blondie. Very... 'Queen Bee'. And you too, puppy-girl."
Lucifer smirked, amused by the audacity. "And I like your... vibrancy. You said you were a prisoner? What did you do to get caught? Rob a bank?"
Hearing this, the woman paused. A dark, reminiscent look passed over her eyes before the manic glee returned.
"Rob a bank?" She scoffed. "Honey, that's Tuesday. No... I made the whole city go crazy."
Cerberus's ears perked up instantly.
"The whole city?" Cerberus whispered, her eyes shining with genuine interest. "That sounds... fun!"
To Cerberus, the Guard Dog of Hell, chaos was a love language. While she was usually well-behaved around Ren, deep down, she was a creature of pandemonium. Hearing about a city-wide riot tickled her demon instincts.
Lucifer, however, was more analytical. She noted the phrasing.
"Just you?" Lucifer asked, tilting her head sharply. "Single-handedly?"
The woman faltered. Her smile wavered for a fraction of a second, a crack appearing in the porcelain mask of madness.
"Well... no," she admitted, twirling a lock of pink hair around her finger. "Of course not. There's... there's Mr. J. My Puddin'."
"Puddin'?" Cerberus blinked. "Like the dessert?"
"Little Pudding," the woman corrected, her voice turning dreamy and soft, a stark contrast to her earlier shouting. "He's the genius. I'm just the... the executioner. We're a team. The King and Queen of Gotham. He plots the joke, and I deliver the punchline."
She launched into a story. She talked about the chemical vats, the chases with the Bat, the nights watching the city burn. She spoke of 'Puddin'' with a reverence usually reserved for deities. She painted a picture of a grand, chaotic romance where love was measured in bullet casings and explosions.
But as she spoke, the atmosphere in the restaurant shifted.
Lucifer and Cerberus exchanged a look.
It was the look of two ancient beings recognizing a very old, very ugly pattern.
To the woman, this was a romance. To Lucifer—the literal embodiment of Pride—it sounded pathetic. And to Cerberus—a creature who understood the bond between master and servant—it sounded broken.
The woman finished her story with a sigh, her eyes distant. Then she noticed the silence. She looked at Lucifer and Cerberus.
"What?" she asked, her smile dropping slightly. "Why are you looking at me like that? You look like you just ate expired mayonnaise."
Lucifer uncrossed her arms. She leaned forward, her crimson eyes boring into the woman's mismatched ones.
"You call him 'Pudding'," Lucifer said, her voice cool and cutting. "You say you are partners. Kings and Queens."
"Yeah?" The woman bristled defensively. "So?"
"But from your story..." Lucifer tilted her head, her expression one of pitying disdain. "He left you in that cage, didn't he? He isn't here. He isn't saving you."
"He's busy!" the woman snapped, her voice rising in pitch. "He's planning the escape! It's part of the plan!"
"Is it?" Lucifer asked softly. "Or is he just using you? I know a thing or two about ruling. A King doesn't leave his Queen to rot while he plays games. And a partner doesn't treat you like a disposable tool."
The woman's face fell. The manic energy drained away, leaving behind a terrified vulnerability.
"You don't know him," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He loves me. He... he changed me."
"He broke you," Cerberus chimed in.
Her voice wasn't mocking. It was surprisingly gentle, stated as a simple fact.
"I'm a dog," Cerberus said, pointing to herself. "I have a Master. Ren feeds me, plays with me, and protects me. That's a Master. But what you have..."
Cerberus shook her head.
"That's not a Master. That's just a bad owner."
The woman—Harley Quinn—stared at them. Her lips trembled. She wanted to scream, to flip the table, to pull out a weapon and defend Mr. J's honor. But the words stuck in her throat like jagged glass.
Because deep down, in the quiet part of her mind that she usually drowned out with noise and violence, she knew they were right.
From the kitchen, the faint sound of sizzling butter and the rhythmic chopping of a knife could be heard, but out in the dining hall, the air had grown heavy.
The Clown Princess of Crime sat frozen, her defenses stripped away by a simple observation from a girl with dog ears. The laughter died in her throat.
For the first time since entering the shop, she had nothing to say.
[Akarin's Note: The guest is obviously Harley Quinn (DC Universe). Her description matches her Suicide Squad/Modern appearance. The interaction highlights the stark contrast between Ren's wholesome "ownership" of Cerberus and Joker's abusive control over Harley.]
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