Harley Quinn Romance 2

Chapter 01: Brain Damage

The car tires screamed in protest as Harley spun the steering wheel and threw her car into a slide around the corner. Two other vehicles, black trucks with tinted windows, skidded around the turn and kept pace with her car. Because she'd been in pursuits before, Harley was more than prepared, reaching into the glove compartment for a hand grenade.

"No tailgating!" Harley yelled before pulling the pin on the grenade with her teeth and tossing the explosive out the window.

The grenade detonated near one of the trucks, destroying the front tire, tearing away the driver's side fender, and setting the engine on fire. The truck swerved off the road and crashed into a parked car. The two men inside the truck bailed, running for their lives before the truck exploded.

Harley giggled with excitement. She'd been watching the spectacular crash in her rearview mirror and didn't notice when a third truck made its appearance, slamming into Harley's driver side door and sending her car careening out of control. Her tires struck the curb, flipping the car over with enough height to jump the guardrail and tumble down the hillside. When the car reached bottom, it was more of a mangled heap than anything else.

Harley unbuckled her seatbelt and dropped to the ceiling of her car, discovering the wreck to be upside down. Blood coated the left side of her face from a head wound, but she ignored it since she knew the killers would be coming to inspect the crash for survivors. Crawling out of the car on the far side kept the twisted metal of her destroyed vehicle between Harley and her pursuers, blocking her from view.

She half crawled, half staggered away. Harley found an alley and dug her way into a pile of old boxes and plastic wrap behind a grocery store. From inside her hiding place, she heard footsteps run past. In the moment before she lost consciousness, Harley noticed how the bright points of light in her vision looked like pretty stars.

***

Rain pattering against the cardboard boxes Harley was hiding underneath woke her. A pounding ache in her head sent a wave of pain through her with every pulse of her heart. She put a hand against her temple in a futile attempt to ease the pain.

Blood coated the left side of her face, but only some of it had dried into a crusty layer, the rest remained fresh, sticking to her hand like watery pancake syrup.

As she pushed her way out of the boxes, Harley staggered back to her feet. She was seeing double and shook her head to try and clear her vision, but it only made the pain intensify. Harley collapsed against the alley wall, leaning heavily on the dirty bricks.

Her breathing was ragged, and she couldn't seem to gain control of it. Despite not wanting to wait, she was forced to do so until her strength returned.

The rain falling from Gotham's usually gray sky pelted her in a multitude of diminutive impacts. The water was cold but not enough to make her shiver; it actually felt soothing.

When she was steady enough to walk without collapsing, Harley headed toward the end of the alley. Billboards lined the streets, the edges of the outdated advertising fraying in multiple locations and revealing countless layers underneath. Neon signs flashed in the darkness of storm covered Gotham, sending forth waves of vivid colors and making the entire city block resemble a fever induced hallucination.

Harley noticed one sign further down the street, a cross of bright crimson highlighted along its edges by red colored neon lights. Changing directions, Harley walked toward the hospital sign.

***

Harley's energy had almost been completely expended by the time she entered the emergency room doors of the hospital.

The hospital, like all properly run medical facilities, was bright, cold, and sterile. Even the air had a metallic taste as if it had been scrubbed. The emergency room was wide and long, filled with rows of padded chairs for people to wait for an available doctor as the number of sick and injured in Gotham was always high. Additionally, the patients were required to fill out lengthy forms about their medical histories and insurance information. There seemed to be a serious lack of urgency. Harley wondered how many patients dropped dead while filling out forms to explain the emergency responsible for bringing them to the emergency room.

Patting the pocket on her black and red leather jacket, Harley felt the extra grenade she carried with her. One way or another, she'd get priority and a swift response from the medical personnel.

She knew they'd send her back to Arkham after they patched up her wounds, but she could handle it. Harley had spent many years locked in the Asylum, occasionally breaking out, so a return to the old place would be familiar. It was practically a home away from home. She'd get a chance to see her friends again and maybe even her Puddin'.

Harley wondered where he might be since he hadn't been in the car. He was always busy with something, so she dismissed the unknown and directed her attention to the nurse on duty behind the front desk. Harley's fingers curled around her grenade, readying for a fight.

"Harley Quinn!" the nurse gasped in surprise when she looked up. "What happened to you?"

The nurse came out from behind the desk and instantly started examining Harley's head wound. She took a pen light from the shirt pocket of her teal scrubs and checked the responsiveness of Harley's eye dilation.

"I was in a car wreck," Harley explained, baffled at the attention and concern she was receiving.

"What about Bruce?" the nurse asked, taking down a few notes on a clipboard she picked up from her desk. "Was he in the car?"

"I was alone," Harley replied. "Who's Bruce?"

"Bruce Wayne, your fiancé," the nurse explained as if anyone in the world should have known it.

"Fiancé?" Harley repeated in disbelief. "I'm not marrying some rich guy! I've got Mr. J."

"Joker's dead," the nurse stated bluntly. "He died almost eight months ago."

"What?" Harley shrieked.

"He got into a fight with Batman at Wayne Enterprises," the nurse said slowly and slightly hesitantly. "Joker ended up going off the roof."

Harley nearly collapsed. If not for the nurse's quick reflexes, she would have dropped to the floor. The nurse called over some assistance and put Harley in a wheelchair.

While they ushered her into one of the rooms for a more thorough examination and treatment, Harley caught a look at a wall mounted clock. The digital numbers displayed the time and date. Harley knew something was terribly wrong because the date was two years ahead of where it was supposed to have been.

She closed her eyes, trying to clear the traffic jam of confusing thoughts in her mind, each idea honking a mental horn to gain her attention. She thought she might still be in the wrecked car, and everything around her was a delusion. It wouldn't be the first time.

Harley also considered she might have a two year gap in her memory, but it seemed too farfetched. Joker had died fighting Batman and she was engaged to billionaire Bruce Wayne. Harley knew she was crazy, but this was just too much. She couldn't conceive any scenario where she'd leave her Puddin' for some spoiled rich guy. Although, she thought having all that loot might be nice.

A part of her mind considered what kind of wedding dress she should wear, but Harley stomped that thought instantly. If Mr. J was gone, she'd no business being with someone else until he'd been avenged. Another part of her wondered about the condition of her hyenas.

One thought swooped in and took command of all the others, silence draping over them like the folds of a spacious cape. If she was imaging everything, nothing she did would matter, but if it was real, she needed to do something about Joker. The idea of being married to Bruce Wayne suddenly became useful. If she went through with it, she'd have access to billions of dollars and the high tech gear of Wayne Enterprises.

Harley smiled as a twisted little plan began forming. She'd go ahead and marry Bruce Wayne, but she'd use his money and resources to find Joker's killer and bring him down. It was the perfect way to honor Mr. J's memory; she'd do what he'd never been able to accomplish. Harley was going to kill Batman.