AN: Hi lovelies! I've had this idea for a while, actually ever since I read the part where Harley has a daughter named Lucy, so here is chapter one, tell me what you think! Happy reading!
~Luna
Chapter 1
Wiring is difficult business. Wiring is even more difficult when you've got a five minute time constraint to do a twenty minute job. I could get it done. Maybe. Most likely.
"Lucy!" I heard my aunt call and I hurried to attach the red wire. Never mind that if it was attached in the wrong place, it could potentially blow up in my face. But those were minor details.
The alarm I had set up in the hallway would give me at best six seconds to hide everything. The lock would give me an extra two, provided Aunt Marilyn forgot which way to turn the key, which I hoped she did. I let her keep the key, to let her believe that she had some control over me. But still, I had to pick between hiding my device and hiding the C4. I could make a liable excuse for both, but answering the question on how I got the C4 would be something I wasn't in the mood for.
My phone binged as if I had gotten a text, but it was the programmed alarm. Quickly I threw all of screwdrivers and pliers into my purple toolbox, before taking the package of C4 and sliding it into the false bottom of my desk drawer. I stood up as I heard the my door click. Aunt Marilyn walked through the door and I closed my drawer shut with my finger tips. Five seconds. She had gotten better at this. I made a mental reminder to place the trip wire farther up the hallway tonight.
"Hello Aunt Marilyn," I greeted as sweetly as possible.
"Lucy, honey," she sighed, setting a basket of freshly washed clothes on my bed. "I wish you wouldn't do that. I'm your aunt, not a stranger. You left your clothes in the dryer so I folded them."
My eyes grew wide for a fraction of a second. Had she found it? I quickly snapped back into being cheerful. "Thank you, Aunt Marilyn."
She just laughed. "You're so funny sometimes, Lucy. It's like you're permanently in Stepford daughter mode."
My hands clenched behind my back and I had to keep the smile on my face. No one laughed at me, being a family member didn't make you exempt. Aunt Marilyn would eventually get what was coming to her. It might take a while, but eventually she would be sorry that she ever laughed at me.
"Well dinner's almost ready and your uncle is having very important people from, so behave," she chided.
Aunt Marilyn was quite possibly the only person I couldn't fool with my deceptions. Everything about me was intended to throw people off. Platinum blonde hair scraped back into pigtails made me look about two years younger, giant hazel eyes that made people want to protect me, being 5'2 made everything I did adorable anyways. Not to mention the fact that I was a ballerina and a gymnast, which were both considered non-violent sports. Not counting the fact that I could possibly crush a man's head between my thighs.
"Of course," I replied, trying to feel around for my device.
She frowned when she looked at my desk. "And no more robots."
She walked out the door and I sighed in relief. I make a robot that blows up without being detonated one time and suddenly everything is a potential weapon. I made my cousin one for Christmas, no C4 at all. But that was the only non-explosive one. But this one wasn't a robot, it was an RC car my actual mother had gotten me for my fifth birthday, complete with a tutu around the middle. I didn't have much to say about the tutu, besides the fact that I was a weird kid.
Sighing, I placed the car in a plastic container with all of my other devices, each detonator color coded with its explosive. After the box was stowed safely away, I grabbed my phone and walked down the hallway into the kitchen. I didn't bother to look at our guests until after I poured myself a glass of orange juice. When I did, I practically choked on my drink. Why the hell was Bruce Wayne in our kitchen?