Disclaimer: I own not Batman Beyond, the characters mentioned or the general idea of any DC universe. I make no money writing this, but still find enjoyment in it.

Only If You Look Closely-:-

Delia looked into the framed, utterly beautiful mirror she had only just recently stolen from some art gallery in lower mid-downtown and watched her mouth give a grin. Her lips spread their now very blood red coloring like the smear of all that awful lipstick she no longer had to use, making her ivory teeth bright, her canines catching her eye.

Still watching herself, she moved her hands through her now darkened forest green hair, chopped like a mop's head down to her shoulders, though still retaining some level of thinness about the locks. The color was so similar to her predecessor it made her smile even wider at the thought, taking her other hand and just lightly cracking the edge of the mirror so she would splinter in the image and become more so than just one thing.

She removed her hand, only slightly bleeding and took some steps back to just settle on the edge of her bed that was still such a mess from earlier that evening. J-Man had wanted to celebrate a job well done, but she only felt like humoring him. She could appreciate sex as much as any human or just any animal, but it got old really quick and she much preferred to make Dot scream after a job like that with so much security. The clown girl didn't like it most times, especially since the last time Delia made her bleed, but she was a much better lay than her boss.

Slowly, her now very dark eyes watched her own hands loosen and discard the dark purple and bloody dark red tailed coat jacket so she could look at how pale and white she had gotten today.

Her skin, that used to be a sort of dainty peach color, seemed to get closer to the color of the winter moon every day. Pretty soon she'd be all chalk white, save for certain parts of her anatomy that made every man swoon, and her internal organs.

'Oh, genetics are so much fun,' she thought with a silent, horrible chuckle.

She blinked for a moment, fingers tracing some open wounds, scratch marks really, along her ribs and then looked back at the mirror and couldn't help but frown.

Yes, genetics…This line of thinking always led back around to her listing off differences between her and her little sister, even if she wasn't thinking about her previously. It was irritating as hell, and she hated it almost as much as she hated her, but it always happened and it was better than wasting her time counting sheep when she wanted to just pass out after a heist.

Leaning into her pillow, the fluffy grey one that she had actually bought some years ago that never seemed to get flat even after taking a spin or two in the washer, she brought the covers up over her lower body and starting ticking off. One by one.

One: Deidre was Harley's offspring. Delia was Joker's.

Two: Delia took all of the family madness and enjoyed it. Deidre had nothing.

Three: Deidre was a spineless, caring, good person. Delia didn't care about anyone and was quite proud of such.

Four: Delia was slowly, but not too slowly, becoming her grandfather, but with a vagina and tits. Deidre was becoming Harley, though from which time period of her life the elder twin could not be sure.

Five: Delia was dangerous and climbing up the crime ladder two pegs at a time, knocking whoever stands in her way down as she goes. Deidre was taking the abuse and hiding something.

Six: Harley made sure that their names were as different as night and day and with two meanings. Delia means 'from Delos and visible,' so she took her destiny to be that of grand design, all flash and bang and noise and show. Deidre means 'wanderer' and one was based off of a story about a woman who died alone. They certainly seemed to be living up to their names, as well.

Seven: Delia likes to smile and laugh because that's just who she is; whether the smile is actually made in good or bad humor is not the question. Deidre only smiles around Ghoul or Woof, and she rarely laughs; she seems to hate doing either.

Growling, Delia took her hand, grabbed the one shoe that hadn't come off of her feet of its own free will and tossed it directly at the mirror.

When the priceless antique hit the floor, she heard it shatter and could just visualize behind her eyelids the blood she had left on it splintering into the glass and into itself as it crumbled. The frame made an ugly clanging sound that she could find pretty.

And she did find the noise pretty, even as she fell asleep with an upside down frown.