A/N: This new chapter came a lot quicker than the last one did. How long did chapter 2 take? Like, four months. *hangs head in shame*

But I'm back in business now, so please enjoy the story! I'll try not to end this chapter with Harley or Ivy in so much pain they have to pass out...

Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad or the characters within.

~Harley's POV~

Weeks have passed since Mista J brought me home from Ivy's, though for the life of me, I can't remember why I was there. I was only able to figure out it was Ivy's place because of the L-O-N-G drive. A heavy cast still clings to my left wrist and every time I look at it I stuggle to remember how it happened. I've tried askin' Mista J, but he just shrugs and says I deserved it.

I wonder what on earth that means.

I've also tried callin' Ivy to ask why I was at her house, but no one picks up. Ever. Not Ivy, and if she's out then one of her hench-type people answer. Sam, Dean, Ed or Al. But there's nothin'. I want to go out and see what's up, but my puddin' has me on a sort of house-arrest type thing til my arm heals. He's even keepin' me out of the club so I don't work.

My puddin' can be so kind sometimes, when he's thinking of my safety and well-being. Not so much when it comes to other people, though.

I'm sittin' in the club, sippin' on some coffee when my puddin' walks in. He struts right up to me and kisses me on the cheek, and I laugh and wrap my arms around his neck. For some reason, he stiffens immediately and I pull back. "Somethin' wrong, puddin?" I ask.

There a cold sort of look in his eyes for half a second more before it disappears, and I wonder if I'd saw it in the first place. "All good here, Harles." Mista J sits down next to me and pats my cast, which is now decorated with pretty harlequin patterns of all colors, with green vines stretchin' between them. At the top, on top of my hand and below the knuckles there's a vivid acid-green and pink flower. I don't remember puttin' it there, and I know that it wasn't there when I...left Ivy's? I shake my head. Still tryin' to recall memories that are just out of reach.

His hand creeps up my arm, across my shoulder and lands on my cheek. I barely restrain the shudder of joy that runs through me. "What do ya' say we get that cast removed, hm?" He murmurs, hand strokin' my cheek. "I have a little job planned for us, something easy to get you back into the world."

I grin. "That sounds great, puddin'!" I slide my finger underneath the fiberglass edge of the cast and struggle to reach an itch that's been botherin' me for days now. "This thing is gettin' real old real quick!"

A muscle jumps in his cheek and I stare at him for a moment, wonderin'. "Everythin' all right, puddin'?"

Once again, acid-green eyes focus on me and I shudder. But it's not with joy this time. No, it's with fear. I can feel his malice, his hate for the world. And maybe, just maybe, that possible hate he has for me, too. But Mista J doesn't hate me. He wouldn't, would he? He's my puddin'. But it's gone now, that feelin'. I relax.

"Yes, Harley. Everything is fine." He hops up, grabbin' my uninjured hand and pullin' me through the empty club toward the door. "Now, let's go find a doctor to kidnap to take that cast off!"

Hours later, my arm free, pale, and skinny-looking, puddin' is drivin' at top speed on the highway. He swerves through lines and lines of cars, not hitting a single one. I find myself feelin' relieved that no one is likely to be walking on the highway at this time of night. I sit quietly in the seat next to puddin' examinin' my fingernails. Puddin's gotta be goin' much faster than the speed limit, certainly fast enough to kill us both should we crash. But it doesn't bother me. I've had years of practice of learnin' to learn to deal with the insane speeds. I look up, glancin' outside the window. I don't recognize this place.

"Where're we going, puddin'?" I ask, examinin' our surroundings a little closer. He's slowin' down now, watching for what I guess would be our turn.

He gives me a manic, sideways grin. "That's for me to know and you to find out, honey." After we make our turn, puddin' once again floors it. We're drivin' up a hill, and beyond that I can see lots of lights. I can hear loud music poundin' from over the hill, even through the closed windows of our armored truck. Behind us, taillights flash as Mista J's goons follow us up the drive.

I lean forward, waitin' impatiently to see where my puddin' was leadin' us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him grin and the speed of the truck increases again, ever so slightly.

We're comin' to the crest of the hill now, and puddin pulls off to the left and into the gloriously manicured lawn. He parks the truck carefully, with my window facin' toward the house. I press my nose to the glass, staring.

It seems oddly familiar, the house. It's manicured lawns, perfect gardens that would've had even Ivy jealous, and a beautiful house of brick. I struggle to recall where I've seen it.

I decide on a magazine, because you see a lot of nice houses in magazines that are supposed to make you feel jealous of what other people have and you don't. I study the windows and the door, aware of my puddin' watchin' me carefully. Suddenly it dawns on me, and I start to get very, very worried. I know this house, its lawns, its gardens, everything. This house belongs to a very rich man, a very powerful man. Someone I wasn't sure I wanted to get into trouble with. I turn to stare at puddin' in shock.

"P-puddin'? We- We aren't really gonna go after...him? Are we?"

The insane grin returns, and a cringe go down my spine. "Of course we are, my darlin'!" He laughs, completely unaware of my distress. "If anyone's going to be fun to mess with, it'll be him!" He climbs out of the truck, slammin' the door shut. I flinch at the loud noise, then get out myself. I'm more careful with the noise level, though its not like really matters. Every one of puddin's goons are making as much noise as Mista J had with the door. By themselves.

I ignore them and walk past, lookin' up at the large house. Vines climb up the buildin' on the left, reaching for the stars. They remind me of Ivy for a moment, and once again my mind is filled with worry for my friend. I haven't heard from her in days, weeks even. It isn't like her, and I forgot earlier to ask puddin'. I know now's not the right time, I can't ask him now.

Puddin' walks up beside me, slidin' a gun into my hand. I accept it without a fight, starin' bleakly at it. Then I follow right behind puddin to go invade this really nice house.

The manor that belongs to Bruce Wayne.

A/N: This wasn't as long as I expected, but everything I had in my plan for this chapter made it in, so I suppose I can't complain. Don't worry, though. The next one should, and I stress should, be longer. I don't know yet.

Well, it's time for bed for me! See whenever I get the next chapter up!

BYE ;3