Harley Quinn And The Joker

At The River

Harley and Batman stood at the roof of Arkham after defusing the bomb and escaping a view cops. It was almost morning and more people walked up and down the streets.

"Thanks for the help, Quinn." He said, then disappeared, leaving Harley alone on Arkham's rooftop.

Looking at her broken hand, she turned around, using a rope in her other hand to slide down the wall and sneaking behind the trees and away from this awful place.

Right now, she needed to talk. No matter to who. Just someone who would listen to her. But who? Her first guess would've been Red and Selina. Then she remembered what they did to her.

She had questions, needed answers. But especially, she wanted revenge. 'Buckshot an' da otha guy have no idea who they messed with!'

Seeking for a place to hide and get over the recent happenings, she looked for the old Steel Mill which used to be one of the temporary hideout of her and Joker.

The old building looked empty as usual but Harley could almost feel the past. And it hurted.

Cobwebs covered every corner and the wind blew through cracked windows, sending dust to my nose and making me sneeze. I rubbed my eyes and looked around. 'How much this place has changed.'

She started walking, stepping on rotting wood and old pieces of the roof laying on the concrete floor. Finally, she stopped, staring at a very damaged desk. Memories caught up to Harley as she ran her fingers over the scratches in it.

Shrugging in pure fear and sadness, she tried to banish a certain picture her mind made up. 'I wonder what happened.' Harley thought as she left the place. What made Two-Face kill her Puddin'? 'Is he really...?' She immediately shook her head. No! He couldn't be dead, that was simply not possible!

♦♦

"End of the road, douchebag!" The hateful eyes glimpsed at me as the pale moonlight shone at the gun that pointed at me, making it glimpse.

Two men stood in front of me, each of them staring at me like I took away their candy. Well, technically, I did. That made me grin.

"Aw, what's the matter, Deadhead?" My hands slid in my pockets as I looked at the slightly taller guy and his damaged red eye. "Feeling offended by a little joke?"

Two-Face walked a step closer, placing his right pointer finger at the trigger of his gun. "Safe it, clown!"

I sighed in annoyance, placing two of my fingers between my eyes. "Please, Dent. Let red-eyes take her own fight. I'm sure, with a lot of encouragement and support, she will be able to overcome her shyness and finally grow some balls." I heard Deadshot breathing heavily and immediately put my hands in front of me, gesturing an excuse and using a sarcastic tone.

"Well, not actual balls. Because those things would feel offended. But quitting wearing this skintight rubber suit would be a start." I saw the corners of Two-Face's mouth twitching and a little giggle rising in his throat. 'Perfect!'

His hands formed fists as he growled in anger and suddenly ran towards me and didn't stop as Dent told him not to take it too hard.

Controlling people was so easy when you knew how to manipulate their strongest emotions. Fear, anger, loneliness or shame as well as happiness or love. Soon as you make them loose control, you own them. You can use them, can make them do things the would've never dome before. And that's the joy of it.

Hands in my pockets, I closed my eyes, just dodging at every hit of his. "I'm gonna tear the skin off your back and rub salt all over it!" Deadshot's angry voice yelled and I opened my eyes, looking at his visible eye. "Over what? The skin or my back?" I chuckled and finally decided to put a little action in this fight.