"No."
"Yep."
"No."
"Yep."
Batman took another look at the costume Harley was holding out to him; dark green tank top with crude smiley faces painted all over it in garish neon green, dark purple pants, almost black, with cuts and poor patch jobs making it looked like it had been stolen from a bum, and a full head clown mask that was showing it's years with neither grace nor poise, browned blood stains dotting the side and even a bullet hole at the temple to admit more air into the previous owners skull.
"No," he declared again.
"Yep," she responded as before, never losing that infuriatingly smug and amused grin. "How else are we supposed ta get you into the joint? Goin' as Batman into our little 'Anti Batman System' will probly' draw a few eyes, don't ya think?"
"I'm not dressing up as one of your thugs," he announced resolutely. There were lines, and then there were lines, and this definitely crossed the latter.
"Ya could go in the buff, saying you's a hippie or sommat."
"I'm not doing that either Quinn," he snarled, not at all liking what she was trying to do. They had stopped at this rarely used Joker Fun-House because she had claimed to be needing some essentials, not an entire changeof wardrobe for the both of them.
What she wore now wasn't a usual piece for her: a white tee cut off very low, exposing almost all of her stomach with the jagged edges ending just below where it would be considered indecent. A red and black jacket that bore the words "KISS THIS" boldly printed on the back. Her pants were the same color and sported a few holes on the legs, with the waistline drooping very low indeed, revealing not only the straps of her panties, but also her custom diamond logo tattooed onto her lower back, something Batman had not even been aware of, or even wanted to be aware of, until now.
Her hair had been pulled into two pigtails high on either side of her head, though it seemed she had forgone any braiding and had simply left them there. Her face was once again carefully frosted white with make-up, contrasting dully with the black lipstick she had chosen, though perhaps it was just a very dark shade of red, easily intermixable in the poor lighting of what had once been the stores stock room. To complete her ensemble, she had a small mask around her eyes, a curiosity as her identity had almost never been hidden before.
"C'mon B-man, you're not bein' a team playah' on this one!" She whined childishly, even stomping her foot to that affect. "If it makes ya feel any better you can wear your Barbie belt underneath all of it. But you can't just walk in as Batman. That's a no-no. And since you won't let me just go in alone, I ain't seein' other options here."
Bruce growled to himself, knowing that she indeed had a point; though he was loathe admitting it. Wordlessly he grabbed the costume out of her hands, stalking off further into the dark store to find some privacy. This was most definitely disturbing, but he had known from the get go that being Batman would be far from anything normal, and that sometimes sacrifices needed to be made.
Even if those sacrifices sometimes smelled like B.O. and stale potato chips.
'Ding Ding!'
The tiny bell tinkled as the door opened, chiming once more as it swung closed. The small bookstore had a homey feel about it that perfectly matched the withered grandma who was sliding thick books into places on the already crammed book shelves. When she spied Harley and her large escort through her small spectacles, she smiled warmly at them.
"Welcome to the 'Book Nook," she greeted. "I'm Agnes. Just let me know if there is a book you're looking for and I'll do my best to find it for you."
"Actually, we's looking for a book on fish," Harley began, "Amphiprion ocellaris to be specific."
Batman recognized the proper name for the common clownfish, realizing that she was referring to the Joker. It was a good idea, he grudgingly admitted, using that kind of coding.
Agnes pondered this request for a minute before relocating the stack of books in her arms onto a small table that was already overflowing with open tomes. Tutting to herself, the elderly woman disappeared behind a curtain that led into a back room, sounds of cabinet doors being opened soon following.
"Batman's a bird and you are fish?" Bruce inquired of Harley, who had found a book about carpentry momentarily interesting. She shook her head, finger running down the spines of a tall column of alphabetized encyclopedias, stopping slightly on 'B' and 'J'.
"Not all of us. Cobblepot is any kind of arctic bird. Moth, Clayface and Croc are all pretty easy as well. Eddie's a parrot. Ghul is ancient religious texts an' tha like. I think you get the idea." She stopped perusing the books and turned to face him, noting the curiosity in his eyes that would otherwise have been hidden behind the opaque lenses of his cowl. She couldn't be sure, thanks to the shading of his clown mask, but it appeared that his eyes were a darker blue than her own, almost as hypnotic as sapphires.
"So, how does this act as a fast warning system?" He probed.
"Well, whoeva's mannin' the Watch has all of our numbers, or at least our men's numbers, under different names. They call one of these numbers, and the message is given. Then they pack up, bust up their phone and move on. Simple and clean," she finished with a shrug, turning as Agnes returned baring a large book that had loose sheafs of paper visibly protruding from between the pages.
"Here you are," Agnes announced, delicately setting the book onto a viewing table before puttering off to finish relocating her books. Bruce watched her go, puzzled in trying to figure out why she was helping this string of villain networks. He wasn't lulled by the 'dotting granny' appearance, knowing full well just how unreliable appearances were.
Harley opened the heavy cover, revealing that the pages were actually blank of official type, instead being filled with multitudes of handwritten notes in various hands. At a glance, he could tell that they were all about the Joker and not himself, a distinction that he inquired about.
"We don't just watch you. How many times have we been at each other's throats without you even being there?" Harley quizzed as she flipped through the pages, trying hard to ignore some (all) of the comments about her and Joker, none of which were flattering, or even polite. "We need a way to watch each other and take necessary steps to prepare for any gang wars that's a' brewin'." She finally arrived at the first page that held only half of the space in writing, apparently the most recent additions.
They skimmed through the different notes, some of which contradicted with others while others were mere speculations, rumors or even comments about his hygiene or similar such offensive remarks. Peering over her shoulder, Bruce quickly spotted something of note.
"Here," he stated simply, laying a finger directly below the addition. Harley read it aloud to prevent misinterpretation.
"'Joker's been missing for months. Guy from M said something like this would happen. Should have asked about Waylon, was a buddy in the clink.'" Harley frowned in thought, running her thumbnail against her lower lip. It was a tick she had developed after watching her father years ago when he wasn't yet imprisoned. "Imma going to guess that 'M' is Metropolis, considerin' that several of them guys over there are missin' as well," she murmured. "Who's Waylon?"
"Croc's real name. He dropped it when he became a wrestler," Batman explained, also with a low voice. "So somebody knew that this was going to happen and was in contact with somebody that either orchestrated or helped to orchestrate the abduction. Can we find whoever wrote this?" She shook her head again.
"It's anonymous. Helps ta' keep tabs on each other, otherwise we'd a' be killin' all of each other's goons." Cursing internally, Batman stood up straight and made to depart when the doorbell chimed again. Alerted to this new arrival, the Dark Knight adopted the stance of a common flunky; slouched back, one hand jammed into his pocket, the other swinging in a bored motion, looking around the store with nothing particular in mind. He didn't even look at whomever it was that had just arrived, letting Harley handle this (upon further reflection, he realized just how peculiar that fact was).
"Oh, heya Harvey!" Harley chirped, only the slightest hint of nervousness tainting her voice, easily excusable due to the fact that the former DA had brought along at least a dozen of his men, half of which were waiting outside the door, clearly visible through the cloudy glass.
"Quinn," Two-Face monosyllabically greeted, walking past the duo without a second glance. Batman discreetly tapped his thick-soled boot against Harleys, hopefully getting across the message not to overreact. They continued to read the page, or at least pretend to read it, as Harvey asked Agnes for a book on Greek Mythology. Bruce made the rather easy connection to Maxxie Zeus (unless Prometheus had somehow revived from having an arrow through his brain, though stranger things had happened), which meant that he wasn't there to hassle the Joker's girlfriend or her lackey.
Deciding that they had pretended long enough, Harley closed their book with a thump, let Batman pick it up and carry it to where Agnes now stood. Thanking the 'nice young man', she tottered towards the backroom, but halfway there a horribly mutilated hand stopped her. Harvey took a moment to read the title of the book before looking back towards Harley, his 'good' half showing clear suspicion. Allowing the unconcerned Agnes to continue with her task, he abandoned his own volume to approach the pair. Bruce reacted by puffing out his chest in a threatening way, just as the Two-Face thugs were now doing just so.
"Why are you looking up on your psychotic boy-toy Quinn?" Dent quizzed, his voice that usual harsh, guttural rasp. Clearly unnerved, Harley took a step backwards so that her back was almost touching Bruce's chest. Finding comfort in the proximity of the disguised Batman, Harley gave Dent a sugar-sweet smile.
"Jus' doin' some light readin' in my spare time. How 'bout you?"
"Oh no, don't change the subject. You can't act the dumb blonde to me. I saw too many of them in the court room not to know when they are actually incompetent or just acting, and you do a lot of the latter." Harvey closed the distance between them in a second and grabbed her arm, eliciting a yelp of surprise. The only reason Bruce didn't immediately retaliate was because of the score of goons who no doubt had their hands on concealed weapons, just itching for a fight to break loose and rub out the Joker's right hand woman.
"Now Two-Face, it's rude to be nosy. You don't see me pokin' around what you were lookin' fer." Harley quipped, shaking off the gripping hand; perhaps not fully aware of how much danger they were in. Crossing one foot over the other, the masked woman clasped her hands behind her back. Spying movement, Bruce carefully looked down, the deep eyeholes of the mask concealing the movement, and saw that she was waving her fingers frantically, gesturing for him to give her something. Utilizing a Chinese style sleight of hand, he craftily gave her the smoke bomb he had been concealing in his palm the entire time they had been in the shop.
"Ah, but I am in the position to ask questions, having the superiority in numbers and arms. If you want to exit this building in the same number of pieces as when you entered, then I strongly recommend that you spill whatever secret you're withholding." Dent sneered, the full affect somewhat dampened by the fact that half of his face was always sneering.
There was a rustling as the Two-Face cronies all anticipated a move from the garishly painted thug and his charge. Silence reigned for an entire minute, with neither party deigning to move.
"Alright Harvey," Harley spoke lowly, obviously unamused, "I'll tell ya." They waited expectantly, Bruce for some kind of cover story, Two-Face and his men for whatever nitty gritty truth she would reveal. "This here is Batman," she indicated the disguised Bruce, who stiffened in shock," and we're lookin' for clues 'cause Mistah' J is up and disappeared along with a few of the other guys, and we are gonna find 'em. Kinda like a team up of sorts."
Once more, silence filled the cramped space between the two groups. There was a very pregnant pause, in which Bruce tensed his muscles; ready for the sudden trigger he knew would cause the building tension to erupt.
"PFFFTTTHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Dent erupted into barking laughter, actually bowing over from the force of his guffaws. The rest of his gang hesitated before joining their unhinged leader in laughter. Bruce took a minute to give Harley a withering look, this one more miffed than angry, but she simply smiled and punched him on the arm, not at all lightly. She was more nervous than she was letting on.
"That's just the kind of joke I would expect from Joker's little bitch," Two-Face chortled. Harley tensed, but Batman's hand on her shoulder made her refrain from doing anything rash. "Well tell you what; since you made me and the boys laugh, I'll actually give you the benefit of the flip," Harvey explained, holding up his infamous scarred silver dollar. "Heads, you walk out of here just fine or," he rotated the coin so that they could clearly see the etched and blackened side, "Tails, you have to wait for the meat wagon to come and pick you up."
Batman had no idea where this sudden declaration of death came from, though he strongly suspected it to be derived from another one of the Joker's past pranks on his fellow villains. Harvey had never been one to readily let go of a grudge whatever the cause. He had to act fast to try and prevent any casualties on either side. He knew that the key was for him to spring upon the exact right moment, but he would also need for Harley to-
"Switch em'," Harley suddenly spat, startling all of them, even Agnes who had otherwise been ignoring the confrontation from a few aisles over. "Tails we live and Heads you can blow us away," She stated resolutely to the flummoxed Two-Face. The scarred District Attorney regained his composure, grinning appreciatively at the psychiatrist and nodding his ascent.
"Keep the odds, change the favor. You know how to make a day interesting little girl. Alright, let's go." With that he flicked the coin expertly with his thumb, sending it tumbling straight up in lazy rotations. All eyes were on the dollar as it seemed to move in slow motion, the difference of life and death hanging in the balance of the outcome,
With a small 'pat' sound, the coin found itself back in Harvey's palm, everyone present craning forward to view the face.
"Heads," Two-Face declared, looking back up at Harley. She let out a puff of breath before turning to face Batman.
"I swear it seemed like a good idea at the time," she said innocently. "Oh well." With that she flung the smoke bomb at the feet of the goons, instantly obscuring them in a cloud of thick, chocking black smoke. Batman sprung at Dent, flooring him with a precise hook while gunfire erupted behind him, peppering the general vicinity where he and Quinn had just been standing. As for the blonde woman, she had smoothly cartwheeled away from their location and had already drawn both revolvers, firing back into the obscuring cloud with a volley over own.
Dragging the now unconscious villain to relative safety behind a counter, Batman relocated his utility belt from beneath his shirt and back over his waist. Reflexively gliding his fingers against one particular panel, he came away with several smaller batarangs, his shruiken equivalent. Moving at a measured clip, he entered the smoke cloud and began to lay the beat down on several of the thugs, incapacitating the first with a pin-point nerve strike that forced him to drop like a bag of lead and sending the batarangs into the gun hands of two more, causing their sub-machineguns to clatter against the wooden floor.
A fourth charged him with a lead pipe, swinging it like a caveman club towards the apparent Joker goon's masked face. Grabbing the weapon and yanking it to the side, Bruce drove his knee up and slammed it into the stomach of the low life, forcing all of the wind out of his lungs with a ragged 'whoosh'. He finalized the neutralization with a descending elbow to the base of the skull, eradicating consciousness.
From the direction of the entrance, there was the report of splintering glass and wood as the other thugs made their entrance with an abundance of enthusiasm. Crouching low, Bruce stalked out of the smokescreen and through the aisles of books, attempting to get a fix on where the rest of the goons were. From the other side of the bookcase he was stealthing past, there came the sudden grunt of a larger man in pain. Looking through the spaces where books should have been, he could see that Harley was engaging two of the thugs at once, utilizing her unique style of fighting to weave in between them, rendering their firearms useless or risk shooting each other. Her revolvers were spinning in her hands, acting as clubs as she pommel smacked the two men repeatedly.
Dodging below a clumsy kick, she came up and, with a flick of both wrists, sent the two guns rocketing into one of the muscular men's face, the crunch of cartilage very much audible even over the din of the other lackeys savagely searching for the two Joker clan members. Howling in pain, that particular stooge bent forward, clutching at his face. Harley leapt forward and, in a rather stunning display of gymnastics and combat prowess, slid onto, over, under and around his chest, threading her legs behind his neck and gave a mighty heave, toppling the man into the opposite bookshelf while she managed to flip onto her feet in time to land gracefully and engage the other of the pair.
Just then, bullets began to riddle the aisle Bruce was in, alerting him to the arrival of no less than four thugs who were now trying to gun him down like a fish in an oddly literate barrel. A flick from his wrist sent two flashbang batarangs into their midst, detonating with twin pops and bursts of blinding light. Sprinting towards them, he delivered a ferocious drop kick to the sternum of the one carrying the assault rifle, have deemed him the largest threat. Next he reached over and dislocated the wrist of the man carrying two large handguns, instantly following with a head butt that sent the man reeling. Still holding onto the wrist, he pirouetted around and kicked another thug in the side of the face, the man's diminutive height making it rather easy. Not even watching as his last victim was send bodily into the wall, the currently un-caped Crusader brought his free fist around and struck the one with the recent wrist pains with a backhand punch, crumpling him like paper dolls.
The last man had already regained his sight by the time Bruce got to him, brandishing a knife like some kind of 50's greaser. Weaving left and right to avoid the clumsy and painfully telegraphed stabs, he brought the flat of his palm up in a swat that succeeded in disarming the criminal with minimal effort. He dispatched the man with a combination of lightning fast jabs to the shoulders, which numbed his arms, and then to his cranium, inducing a concussion and rendering him unconscious.
Finished with that scuffle, Batman turned the corner to check on Harley, somewhat surprised to see that she was already finished and had left the two knocked out victims where they had fallen. Hearing the crack of single action gunfire, he tracked it to the backroom, which was exceedingly larger than what the rest of the store suggested. There were towers of books alongside large crates and carts laden with numerous books, which apparently couldn't fit in the front.
Harley was there, flitting between carts as she exchanged fire with the three remaining Two-Face grunts. As soon as he entered the room, gunfire peppered the area around him, prompting a hasty dive for cover. Where she was likewise pinned, Harley threw down her guns in disgust, clean out of ammo. They looked at each other across the gap, hoping that the other had some brilliant idea to get them out of this situation. When Batman didn't say anything, Harley swore vehemently and began to look around the room. For his part, the Dark Knight searched his utility belt for anything of use, but he had exhausted his limited supply over the last two days and hadn't restocked at the Batmobile.
A clatter drew his attention and what he saw caused him to shout in anger, though he wasn't sure what was the intended target of his wrath: Harley had made a beeline for one of the walls, being chased by fortunately badly aimed gunshots, and had then scaled some pipes and vents that were protruding or attached to the bricks. Gaining the element of height, she then swung from girder to girder with grace rarely found outside of a trapeze act. Moving as fast as she could, she had made it above the goons and had thrown her entire satchel at them before leaping clear.
Something inside of the bag wasn't entirely stable, and promptly exploded in a large burst of green flames that blasted the thugs into unconsciousness. However, before they could be burnt to death, Batman sprang forward and dosed the fire with a thick curtain that had been covering some rare books.
"Phew! That was harder than usual," Harley noted with some humor, wiping sweat and grime off of her forehead, a fair bit of make-up coming with it. The two walked towards each other and surveyed the wreckage that had once been a storeroom. "We make a pretty good team. Well, y'know, when we're not trying ta' kill each other that is." She shrugged unconcernedly. "So, off to Metropolis?"
"No. I'm going alone." His reply was brusque and sharp, leaving no room for argument. But argue she did.
"Why can't I come? I have a stake in this too!" She shot back, drawing up to her full height and standing toe-to-toe with the Dark Detective.
"When I find the whereabouts of the Joker I will have him sent back to Arkham where he belongs."
"Well that's not gonna happen if I find Mistah J first," she declared. "I thought you wanted to help me!"
"I wanted to find the Joker and the rest before he could cause anymore innocents to lose their lives."
"Well," she shoved him aside to walk past him, "we'll just see who-"
Her words died as a gunshot rang out and the blonde collapsed, blood gushing from a hole in her chest. In the doorway for the storeroom, Two-Face stood with a large caliber handgun poited their way, the barrel smoking faintly.
"One down," he announced, turning to aim the gun next at Batman, "one to go."
Thinking quickly, Bruce saw one of Harley's revolvers lying on the cement floor a few feet away and took one large step before soccer kicking the gun Harvey's way, forcing him to duck on instinct. By the time he stood back up, Batman had already crossed the distance between them and rammed two fingers into Two-Faced solar plexus, stunning him and leaving him open for an upper cut that knocked him back to crack the crown of his skull on the door frame. Dent's eyes rolled up and he was out like a light.
Bruce fell to his knees by Harley, who was already sheet white beneath her make-up, futilely clutching at the large hole in her chest. Looking up at her unlikely chaperone, she tried to speak, but nothing except a spurt of blood came out, reddening her chin and cheeks. She gave one last terrified look before passing out from blood loss. Cursing, Bruce racked his brain; if he took her to a hospital, they would turn her over to Gordon, and from there, Arkham. Injured like this, she couldn't defend herself from any of the other psychos if they managed to get to her.
Finally, a decision became apparent, and even though he detested it and it made his stomach turn, he knew that it was her best chance at survival.
Not minding the blood, Batman lifted Harley and carried her out of the store to where the Batmobile was waiting after an electronic summons. The only witness to this was Agnes, sweeping the bullet casings strewn across her floor.
"Such a nice young man," she tutted.
AN: Batman's thug outfit is one from 'Arkham City' and Harley is wearing a modified version of her Insurgency outfit from 'Injustice: Gods Among Us'.
