The Laughing Man, Book Two: Goner

Chapter Eight

Stealth, Harley found, was quite difficult when injured. Her steps were silent but her form was awkward, unable to slip into the small cracks as she normally would. Even without the thrashing offered by Mr. J, she was still weak. And she didn't know the mansion's layout too well. Half-remembered from years prior combined with her limited interaction in the past few days. Improvised weapons were plenty but she knew she didn't have the strength to make use of them, not as she normally would. Despite all, she heard her lover's words in her ear. Dangerous and underestimated. Crane would not underestimate her, but judging by the multitude of footsteps below, he wasn't alone. More importantly, they didn't know her. An advantage to her as Crane was a coward. He wouldn't directly confront her if he had another option available. So, she would be facing the minions.

Peering down the cascading, circular stairs as she planned her next move, she was startled by the hand that covered her mouth. No one had made it up the stairs yet, so she assumed it was either Thomas or Geoffrey. She turned her head to confirm Thomas' presence and nodded. The hand released and he jerked his head in a direction. Silently, she followed him into a bedroom. Judging by the wall hangings, the color scheme, the books, and the rumpled bedding, it had to be his room.

Thomas kept his voice low, an almost hiss. "What the hell is going on?"

"Jonathan Crane has come for me," she responded, while looking around the room. "Do you have any decent weapons in here?"

Thomas shook his head. "Everything would be down on the first floor. Why is he after you?"

"I kind of tortured him for a couple of hours and now he's looking for payback." Her tone was casual, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Harley walked around the room, looking for anything that could be a decent weapon. She spotted a letter opener lying on a small secretary on the eastern wall and snagged it. She tested the edge against a finger. Not perfect but sharp enough. "This will do."

"What are we going to do?"

"You," she said, walking back to him, "are going to do nothing. You are going to barricade this room after I leave. No matter what happens, do not leave the room, even if you hear gunfire. I'll be fine. Crane will want me alive. And if I should get taken, call Mr. J."

Thomas stared at her. She could see his inner white knight struggling inside him, worried for the safety of the poor, injured female. "You're going out there alone?"

"Hell yeah," she smiled wildly at him, giving him a taste of her demons. "I'm going to show those boys a real good time, Harley Quinn style."

"Harleen, I can't just stand by and do nothing," Thomas grasped her shoulders. "Let me help."

"No." She stared up at him. "Thomas, I know you got my back, but this is the big boys club now, not amateur hour. Unless you can find that inner fire, that monster inside, you'll just get yourself killed."

"What makes you think you can handle this? You're barely standing."

Harley leaned forward to kiss his cheek, laughing against his skin. "You're so precious when you're concerned."

Then she flipped the letter opener in her hand so it faced downwards, lifted her shirt, and cut her stitches open, ignoring the sound of protest from Thomas. The wound was nearly healed but pressing harshly against the opening, she was able to coax blood from it. Smiling at Thomas' dumbfounded expression, she said, "No one expects the injured animal to lash out."

Thankful she was wearing her yellow pajamas, she pushed the material against the wound, letting the blood soak through. Very visible against the pale coloring. By the time she got back to her room, she would look sufficiently damaged enough to be thought of as prey. Dangerous and underestimated. Harley relished the pain that shuddered through her body. Resisting the urge to make Thomas her new plaything, she nodded to him, exiting the room. She heard the door close behind her. At least he could follow instructions.