Jokes on You

Funny Bones. A broken down club that was long shut down because the owner didn't feel the need to pay rent anymore. Well that was okay. Through the boards and various blockage, a certain clown and her goons had taken up residence in the building. Sitting at one of the tables, the Clown Mistress would have her feet lifted up onto the side of the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. Her goons sat at various tables playing cards and tossing them around whenever upset. The woman wore her usual outfit, with her belt and fun house gloves. The face paint on her face was even, and didn't show a hint of natural skin color. Playing with one of her pigtails, the clown would give a long sigh. "I'm boooored! Being stuck here while Bane and Mischief have all the fun, is NO fun! All because I made a few videos and got myself pretty popular with the law, doesn't mean I should have to hide out all the time.." She followed her complaining with another sigh, as a goon walked up to her with a drink from the bar. This goon was one of the many female clowns that had followed her after the New Jersey bombing. 'Boss, enjoy the free time. Always being pent of in conflict won't give you enough time to make your oh so clever punchlines." Jesteria looked towards the woman and took the drink with her right hand. "That doesn't help!" She took a sip of the drink and her nose crunched up. Pure alcohol. Not even chased with anything. As the woman shook her head, the female follower would place her own glass on the table and come to sit down onto the clown mistress' lap. The Jester's eyes would shift away, as the woman sat in her lap and wrap her arms around her in an embrace. 'In the meantime we could have our own type of fun..If you know what I mean.' Jesteria still didn't turn back. "Not now..The only fun I'm interested in is blowing up SHIELD once and for all."

Gheist hated the mask. Yeah, sure, she had to use it to bypass the goons, and merge into the community. But hell if it wasn't as irritable as hell. Every ten seconds or so, her face burned as if afflicted with an army of fire ants. She only managed to resist scratching her mask off by rubbing it on her face to soothe the itch, as she nodded furtively and grunted what she hoped sounded like grunts of approval when her poker companions asked for her opinion. She scanned the room for the Clown Mistress, the one who led the so-called Suicide Corps, and spotted her at the other side of the room. Gheist leaned back on her chair, and studied her path and options, as another female clown approached Jesteria. Finally making a decision, she placed her hand of four Aces and a Joker on the table, muttering "Fold.". The table looked up at her as if she had gone mad, as she stood up and left.
With one fluid motion, she plucked off the mask, dropped it and drew a black balaclava with the skull's jaw over her own jaw and slipped a pair of wire-frame rectangular sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose. Her boot crushed the rubber mask underfoot, her hand reaching to one side and slipped a steak knife into her hand as she passed a table. At about a metre from Jesteria's table, the lamplight hit the steak knife, the gleam only for a split second before Gheist took action.
"Hey. Heads up." Gheist called and whipped forth the steak knife towards the follower. She would be an annoyance if they couldn't get her out of the way for their conversation.

Jesteria's eyes would focus on the figure coming her way while the annoying female clown would remain on her. She was persistent, but the clown mistress had no thoughts on quenching her perverted thirst. Raising a brow, she watched the figure, who was currently coming straight towards her, pull a knife and attempt to stab the woman on her lap. Giving a little push, the Jester pushed the woman onto the knife and quickly drew her own blade. Pushing away, she'd raise her katana towards the figure's face. At first, the expression on her face was indifference..then suddenly she'd begin to burst into a mad laughter, and sheath her blade back onto her belt. "I'm not entirely sure who you are, but it's been a while since I've seen a killing like that! Stab Stab Staaab! HAAHAHAH!" The maniacal clown would walk forward and sit back in her seat. Reaching for her glass, she'd take another sip of the alcohol and let it slide down her throat like liquid flames. With her usual deranged smile on her face, she'd look towards the newcomer, even if her goons were starting to swarm around the two of them. Jesteria should have taken this matter abit more seriously, but instead she pointed to an empty seat across from her. "Take a seat! Maybe you can liven up my night! How about a game of russian roulette?" The woman removed her signature gun from her holster and pointed it towards the temple of her own head. "Click Click..Boom." She tilted her head at the last second, as she pulled the trigger and caused the gun to fire into the ceiling. It hit one of the loose lamp hanging above, and made it fall down, crashing onto the head of one of her goons and knocking him out. The clown queen of crime would begin laughing out loud, as she pocketed the gun and leaned onto the table to look towards the newcomer. "So what do you want? To kill me? Heheh.." She giggled at the thought..

Gheist retracted the knife as soon as it missed the target. Too slow, she realized as she soon found a sword blade at her neck. She really had to train harder if clowns were getting on her upper hand. She raised her hands, dropping the knife with a clatter, and watched with disturbing calmness as the Clown Mistress seated herself back on her chair again, and sheathed her blade.
Gheist flinched when Jesteria fired the revolver, and only just missed the plaster coming down on one of the clowns. Shaking her head, she dropped her hands to her sides and paced to one side of the table, refusing to seat herself down.
"Kill you?" Gheist cocked her head to one side. "That would entertain you, wouldn't it? Sadly, no, I am not here to give you the pleasure. I am here to offer something better, and something worse." Gheist unholstered her own M1911A, a jet-black handgun, and lay it on the table, and spun it. It swiveled to a stop, the barrel pointing at herself, the handle towards Jesteria, as if it was being offered to her. "Myself. I want to see SHIELD go up in flames. They have been," Gheist straightened up, pushing her sunglasses up, "quite an annoyance as of late to my -late- clients." Gheist enunciated the 'late' word just to cover up a entirely unnecessary story telling session.

The woman leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table, and used her propped up arms to hold her head. Eyes narrowing, she would blow a strand of hair from out of her eyes. The clown looked bored after the other made it clear that she wasn't there to take a life. "SHIELD? SHIELD up in flames?" The Jester spoke with a clear tone, as her eyes shifted to look towards her finger nails. "If you're coming here to hire me to take out SHIELD, I don't care for money. My services can't be bought. This city needs a new type of criminal. One that doesn't revolve around how much cash they're getting every night." Tilting her head, she'd shift her eyes back towards the woman. "I'm not interested in any offers you may have. I'm not doing any dirty work for you. It's like you're writing the joke and I'm doing the punchline..It doesn't work out." Jesteria's attention span was fading fast. The woman would need to say something, and something fast, before the clown would express her boredom.