She leaned back against the wall and stared out into the dim twilight. The air was warm and the wind was gentle. In a way, it reminded her of the neighborhood that she had once lived in as a child. The only thing that it really lacked was the occasional chirp of crickets ringing softly in the gloom. That, and the fact that she never stood there wearing war-paint and a harlequin-coat.

Presently, she took out a lighter and played with it a while, watching the light flicker. It was very soothing somehow, making her feel safe despite how out in the open she was outside the warehouse-hideout.

"Pretty," said a familiar voice, coming up to her. "How I do love that glow…"

She turned and found Poke striding up to her. His dark hair was tousled and hung messily in his face. As usual, he was grinning that eerie grin of his, making her feel both glad and discomforted to see him.

"Hello. I trust you've been to see Mr. J? He's awake now, you know."

"Yep. I saw the boss. Glad to see that he finally woke up. He had me sort of worried there for a moment."

"You have no idea," she said with an airy whisper. "How happy I am to see that he's okay."

He chuckled a bit and hovered closer to the tiny flame. "Oh, I suspect that you're really glad. After all, you've been hanging around his bedside for days. It's a relief, I'm sure. Looks like your loyalty has paid off."

Pleased with his words, she handed him the lighter and he uttered a tiny squeal of delight, running the lighter in between his fingers.

"Why do you love fire so much? Even when I was a shrink, I never could really fully understand where pyromania stemmed from."

"Everyone loves fire a bit," Poke said. "I just love it a bit more than everyone else. Fire is a comfort…a refuge of some sorts. You can stare into the flames and find yourself glowing with an aura of power within them. Fire is a sword, a guardian that can protect you. Don't tell me you've never felt that omnipotent tingle whenever you've burned something?"

She shrugged. "Well...I suppose…"

He took out another lighter from his pocket. "This one is my personal favorite. The boss gave it to me when I first joined his crew. Ain't she beautiful?" He twirled it around in front of her.

"Yes," she said in awe. "She is rather beautiful…"

"Just another piece of brilliance from the boss. There's never been another man quite like him."

"No," she agreed. "No there isn't."

Then he stopped and thought a minute. "Well, actually…maybe there is. The Batman."

"The Batman?" she asked with an angry hiss, towering over him. "How is he anything like Mr. J? I hate him!"

"Er, yes well, I do too. It's just that the Batman is like the boss in that they both are sort of the black sheep of Gotham. They're both rejected by society so to speak."

She cocked her head and considered it. "Perhaps, you're right. Yes…that actually makes a bit of sense. But while Batman is never caught, Mr. J has to suffer and get locked up." She gritted her teeth, feeling the red-hot hate for the masked flying rodent well up within her.

Poke leaned over her shoulder and watched her face, perhaps trying to find the right thing to say. "Have you told the boss of your little encounter with the Bat yet?"

"No. I don't intend on telling him until the time is right. And Poke, neither you nor the others breathe a word about it to him. If I want to make the Batman suffer, I want to make sure that Mr. J doesn't get too involved. The poor thing has already suffered enough. I want him to be good and surprised when he sees what I'm going to do for him."

"But first," Poke said as he closed his lighter. "First, we actually have to defeat the Batman. How are we going to do that? The Batman only shows up whenever he's positive of where we are. And right now, I'd say that we're pretty well-hidden. Not only that, but we're just not too ready to try to take him on. You saw how tough he can be. The wound you had on your arm was proof of that."

She smiled maliciously at him, her blue eyes glowing brightly. "Then we'll just have to prepare ourselves more. I'm still going to try to fight him even if he shows up and we're not prepared. And as for finding him? Well…perhaps we can get a little information on where he usually prowls…"

"But who? Who could give us that information?"

She laughed, turning a cartwheel forward. "Think, Pokey. We're not that aloof. We've got connections. Mr. J and I just happen to be acquainted with a certain fellow that probably has a whole bunch of info on ole Batsy. You could say that he's a real…scream..."

Poke eyes lit up. "You mean…the Scarecrow?"

"Bingo! What do you say, Poke? Should you and I go pay a visit to his-royal-freakness?"

Poke glanced nervously back at the warehouse. "Shouldn't we get the others? I mean, Scarecrow's probably not one to mess with."

"Johnny isn't that tough. Don't get the others. It'll be you and me, Poke. I have a fair idea on where he could be. Hangs around the abandoned factory only a little bit north of here. So whattya say? Come on!"

Before he could answer, she ran off into the darkness, leaving him no choice but to run after her.

"Harley! Wait up! Wait for me!"

XxX

"Not a very cheery part of town is this?" he said with a scowl. "Filthy streets, rats everywhere, not a person in sight...I usually don't really care about this sort of stuff, but there's something really unnerving about this place."

"Don't be a baby. This place is no different than all the other parts of lesser-Gotham. And all the better that there's no one around—I'd hate to have to have the GCPD called on us. Come on, keep up."

Poke scurried beside her, clutching his knife and glancing around nervously. Shadows seemed to dance across the walls of the alleyways and the sewers possessed a rather ungodly aroma to them. As much as she didn't admit it, she could understand why Poke felt the way he did about this place. It was rather unpleasant. But she pushed back her fear and kept moving forward, eyeing every nook and cranny for a trace of Scarecrow's lair.

"Do you remember?" Poke asked shakily. "The old urban legend that sprang up a year or so ago? The one that said that there was some sort of crocodile-man running around in the sewers?"

She laughed. "Yeah. I remember that one."

"If he ever needed a place to hang around, it would be here. The sewers stink high to Heaven."

"Probably why ole Johnny likes this place. The stink is enough to keep everyone away."

"Harley," Poke said with a nervous twitch. "Let's go back to the hideout. We're not going to find him. This place is bad news and information is not worth putting our lives in danger."

She whirled around and stared at him fiercely. "Have you really forgotten, Poke? We are the danger. Have you forgotten who you work for? For someone so brave in combat, you certainly are acting rather cowardly."

"Sorry," he said, flinching slightly. "Sorry. It's just this place. It creeps me out big time."

"Suck it up," she said with a growl. "We're not about to turn back so—"

"Look!" he shouted pointing into the darkness ahead. A large, burly man stepped out of the shadows and stood before them. Then, five more men stepped out as well, each as large and massive.

"Well, well…company."

Instinctively, Harley pulled out her knife and stood her ground, glaring at each man as ferociously as she could.

"We're not here to fight," she said quietly. "We've come to see your boss. I know you fellows work for him. We demand that we meet him."

"You're in no position to order us, girlie," snarled one of the taller men. "Take 'em out."

As soon as he said it, the men were surrounding them, making Poke whimper as he held out his knife with a trembling hand.

"What do we do?" he asked in a frightened whisper. "There are more of them than there are of us! We're screwed!"

"Hush," she murmured. "I'm not about to let them kill us. Ready yourself to strike." She lunged forward and bared her teeth, ready to sink her blade into flesh. "Don't make me kill the whole lot of you. I'll do it before any of you can even blink."

"Stop," said a man's voice. "Leave them alone. That's no way to treat guests."

The six men backed away and Poke breathed a sigh of relief.

"My my," said the man. "Dr. Quinzel? Is it really you? How you've changed!"

The man with the spooky burlap-sack for a mask came forward, brushing past the men. The eyes behind his mask seemed to glow with excitement, studying every aspect of Harley's war-painted face.

"Crane," Harley said with a grin. "You still look as creepy as ever. Yes, I've changed a bit since when we last met." She held out her knife and waved it at him. "Let me make it clear that I'm not about to be messed with. If I wanted to, I could squash you like a bug and all your men with you."

He laughed and both Poke and Harley shivered a little, discomforted by the eerie, unnatural sound. "Just look at you! That face-paint…those black markings around the eyes…that dark lip-stick smile…you've become a regular Joker haven't you? I must say, I never thought you were one to run around in that getup. But look at you now…you've become just like him." And he laughed again.

"I'm warning you, Crane," Harley growled. "I mean everything I say."

"No need for violence. Let's get inside the factory away from being out in the open. Come along now."

They were led into the large, grimy factory that loomed overhead, pushed by Crane's henchmen until they reached a dark, secluded room on the top floor. Once inside, Crane gave his followers a nod and the men went away.

"Cute," Harley said with a snide chuckle. "Looks like little Johnny has become quite the crime-boss. Do they salute you as well?" Beside her, Poke giggled nervously.

"Don't be rude. I'm actually rather proud of myself for getting them to fully comply with my orders. So…why have you come to see us? What do we have to offer you?"

"Information."

Had his mask been off, Harley could have sworn that his eyebrow was raised.

"Information, hm? Now of what I wonder?"

"Information on the terror that stalks you day after day. Information on the man that was vile enough to hurt my Mr. J. Information on the freak that makes the lot of you cower in fear and hide yourselves in the shadows."

"The Batman," Crane said, nodding.

"Exactly. That's why we've come. I intend on destroying the Batman and I need advice on how to beat him. You've been in the criminal field longer than me and you must know a great deal more about the Batman than I do."

Crane blinked behind the mask and leaned back. "Is that so?" His voice was smug, clearly enjoying the compliments. "Now what makes you think that I'm willing to share any information, hm?"

"Because I am going to be the one to off the Bat for good. Batman is just as much your enemy as he is mine. As far as I'm concerned, you'd probably be thrilled to hear that the one who's been tormenting you for so long is dead."

"Sounds intriguing," Crane agreed. "But what else do you have to offer?"

"Free passage into our territory. That means that you and your lot are free to come and go as you please as long as you don't cause trouble. A temporary truce, perhaps. You scratch my back, I scratch yours."

"And all that other crime-boss rubbish," he said with a chuckle. "Impressive, Dr. Quinzel, you've managed to push yourself up into the Gotham underworld. What once was a shaky little shrink is now Joker's second-in-command—the most talked-about woman on the news these days. You're a work of art, Dr. Quinzel."

"My name isn't Dr. Quinzel anymore," she hissed. "My name is Harley Quinn. Now what do you say, Crane? Are you going to spit it out or not? Me and Poke here walked a very long way just to get over here."

"It wasn't easy," Poke added. "This place is almost as well-concealed as our place is."

Crane paused for a moment and then finally removed his mask. He passed a hand through his dark-brown hair and bit his lip, as if pondering on what to say.

"The Batman…oh boy, the Batman… What can I tell you? He's quicker than a serpent and craftier than a fox. You have no idea how many men I've lost in fighting him."

"Yes," Harley said nodding. "I know. We just recently tried to fight him."

"That incident at Gotham National Bank you mean? I heard about it. But at least you managed to escape."

"Where are his weak-points? What am I supposed to do to fight him? That armor he wears is too strong to take simple blows."

"That armor of his is slightly new. He once had different armor and Rottweilers were usually the best way to tear through it. But it seems that he's upgraded his outfit. Dog don't do shit anymore."

"Where does he get it all from? Did he make his own batarangs and suit?"

"I don't believe so. I think there's someone else…someone who designs all his little gizmos for him. Ever encountered a blow from a batarang?"

Harley shivered. "Yes."

"Nasty business. Actually, I'm rather disappointed to hear that you managed to get hit with one, Harley. From what I hear, you're abnormally fast on your feet and your physical abilities are unnatural. Looks like you just weren't fast enough."

She glared at him. "We didn't come here to discuss my shortcomings, Crane. What should I do in order to kill him?"

Crane leaned forward and studied her face. "The answer is simple: play the victim."

"Huh? Victim?"

"If I know the Bat, he probably pities the hell out of you right now. If I were you, I'd try to convince him that you've reformed, that you've seen the 'error of your ways'. Then, when he's least expecting, you strike and kill him. Even if you are Joker's main squeeze, you're still a woman. Therefore, it might be easier to convince him."

"A trap," Poke murmured under his breath. "A trap for the Bat…"

Harley thought about it, feeling excitement surge through her as a plan began to form up slowly in her head. Yes, Crane had suggested a good idea. Perhaps, she'd wait a while (letting her battle Batsy a bit more) and then put the plan into action. The poor masked flying rodent wouldn't know what hit him.

"Wow, Johnny," she said almost sweetly. "That's actually a pretty good idea. I honestly didn't think we were going to get anything useful from you, but looks like you've proven me wrong."

"Heh."

"BOSS!" Called one of the henchmen, dashing into the room. "Boss, we've got an emergency! He's here!"

"Who's here?" The three of them were already on their feet.

"The Bat! He's here! He's taken out two of the others and he's making is way up here! The boys and I have been trying to stall him as much as possible, but he's still coming through. What do we do?"

"We get the hell out of here," Crane said, leaving Harley and Poke behind. "Nice chatting with you, Harley, but I really must run. It's every man for himself."

"Crane! Don't run out just yet! There's still more things you need to tell me!"

"Sorry, kiddo. Some things are better left to be figured out on your own. See you around."

"Damnit!" Harley screamed as she and Poke began to run. "We're gonna have to fight to get out of here!"

"Ooh, I knew this was a bad idea!"

"Bad idea or not we're here," she said, her eyes firm and determined. "Come on, Poke. We've got a Bat to take down."