A burst of gunfire shattered the windows upstairs. Harley Quinn, clutching a submachine gun, shouted with a crazed expression:
"I'm here! Your damned riddles are completely useless! You'd better come out obediently, or I'll shoot you into a puddle of red jam and spread you on bread to eat!"
"Ah, ahhh, you're here. Perfect, I just came up with a new riddle. Don't worry, the crown is fine. It's right there, inside a box."
Riddle Woman's teasing voice came from a recorder stuck to the ceiling. She had clearly anticipated Harley Quinn's arrival.
But her next words instantly wiped the smile from Harley Quinn's face, replacing it with a terrifyingly grim expression.
"Oh, right. I prepared eleven of those boxes, each with a riddle on it. I sent them to every corner of Gotham. Go find those boxes. The crown is in one of them. You have a one-in-eleven chance."
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat! Harley Quinn raised her gun and blew the recorder to pieces. What a joke. That damned bitch.
"I knew you'd gone crazy." Riddle Woman's voice came from elsewhere, and Harley Quinn spun around with the submachine gun in her arms and opened fire.
It was a liquor cabinet. Bullets tore through it, shattering every glass and bottle on the shelves. Glass scattered everywhere, and liquor spilled freely across the floor.
Riddle Woman's voice disappeared, but only for a moment. Then it rang out from the sofa. "Don't be so angry."
Click, click, click. Harley Quinn pulled the trigger, but the gun was empty. With a smack, she threw the submachine gun to the floor.
Harley Quinn pulled out a fruit knife, leaped onto the sofa, and stabbed wildly into it, reducing the recorder inside to a pile of parts.
"You damned bitch! You actually dared to toy with me!