AN: Own nothing at all. The hair is meant to be halfway between classic and new Harley.
Splish. Splash.
The foaming purple concoction ran into the sink. Harley turned on the faucet and rinsed her hair once again. She was quite good at bleaching her roots. The smell of it used to bother her but now she was actually quite fond of it.
'Perhaps, that's what professor Crane is like with his chemicals,' she thought, although she found it difficult to believe anyone in reality could end up actually liking those scents.
It was looking quite good actually - despite the bad lighting here. Harley grabbed another pack. Now for something completely different. She wasn't entirely sure how she'd do this - or even exactly what she wanted to do, but she needed a change. It wasn't like anyone could see it underneath her costume. As Harley mixed and applied the dye, she thought to herself that maybe, just maybe, the costume needed an update too. She loved it. It showcased who she was but… It was something she'd put together for him.
Harley Quinn - Harley Queen, didn't need to be an homage to the Joker. Her mind was goo and she didn't have any immediate ideas. It would have to wait. It's not like she could go shopping now. Not tonight. This was the big one. Everything they'd worked towards - and, to her surprise, she found herself to be a little nervous. Sure, the Scarecrow had it under control, but she still felt deeply that this would be very different from everything she'd done for the Joker. This time it was as much her thing as it was someone else's. That meant if it went wrong it was also her failure. This had to go well. As she watched the clock - waiting for the dye to do its magic, she smiled to herself. Dr Crane would be so happy if they made it. He'd finally get to complete one of his big experiments. She didn't care as he did about writing papers on it. There was literally no money in it for her. Nothing really. Except fun - and the chance to see him happy. That was a lie. She'd get a reputation at last. As someone to be reckoned with.
30 minutes. Her hair definitely hated her by now. Harley washed her hair again and dried it with a towel before looking in the mirror. It wasn't long thereafter she twirled down the stairs. The door to the laboratory was open, but no one was in there right now. At the foot of the stairs in the entrance-hall, there was some commotion as the Scarecrow and their hired help were moving boxes and equipment, readying to load it all into the car outside once it was time to go. Lenny jumped back the moment she backflipped from the stairs to the floor - not out of awe, she assumed, as she had been informed exactly why he now had a mangled digit.
"Tah-dah!" she loudly proclaimed as she landed and elegantly flew into an arabesque position.
No one except Lenny looked up. Harley frowned.
"Ay! I said 'tah-dah', fellas!" she announced a little louder.
"Good heavens," mumbled the burlap sack, as he finally looked up. "What on earth have you done to your hair?"
Harley lowered her leg and grinned.
"Ya like it?" she said and spun around for all of them to take in just how pink the tips of her pigtails now were.
"Eh.. It's festive, Ma'am!" said Max, the tallest of the hired men.
Harley chuckled with delight at his choice of words. Two of the others mumbled similar things, but Dr Crane simply repeated:
"Heavens…"
Harley stuck her tongue out at him and continued cheerily:
"So whatcha got there? All ready?"
"We will begin loading shortly," said Dr Crane, still staring at her hair. "Can you… Be ready to leave in 40 minutes?"
Harley smiled. Butterflies fluttered in her insides. It was like the night before a birthday. The day of the big show. A new Harley would be painting the town red. Or blue. A rainbow! Anything was possible. The hardest part was being patient. IT would take hours just to get ready, they had to start while it was still light out.
"Sure thing, professor! Oooh! Gotta fetch the kiddies!" she chirped and skipped towards the garage to unchain the hyenas.
"No! Dr Quinzel? Please, don't!" Dr Crane called after her.
Maybe she should have actually told him she wanted them along, but to Harley it was obvious that they should come. You don't leave family behind.
The answer had to be somewhere. Pamela turned the page yet again and glanced back to the map of Gotham, lying at her right. Trains. Tunnels. Sanitation pipes. She had seen some of the plans on that table, but not much to go on. Poison Ivy rubbed her temples, trying to remember. She had been trying for hours.
'Where? Where are you?'
It had to be somewhere of interest to Jonathan Crane. She knew Harley. Harley didn't work like that. She didn't do weeks of planning. She didn't have any particular goal - well, other than making the Joker happy and herself laugh. She did it for the thrill, not the reward. So, it had to be Crane. Of course it did. Pamela didn't know him well, but she knew not to underestimate him. That was a classic mistake. People like Killer Croc could get away with it because they had the upper hand on him at Arkham. She'd seen firsthand what happened to other inmates who did. That blond guy with the scarred arm. Fair, he'd assaulted multiple women and Pamela shed no tears over the likes of him. He'd been in Stonegate Penitentiary, transferred to Arkham for the first time. She didn't know if he'd actually had some kind of breakdown or if he'd tried faking his way into what he thought was a cushier situation. Never mind, he'd fallen straight into the classic mistake. He arrived, tried to find some easy target to attack and earn himself a reputation with the others. Maybe finding some spindly looking nerd worked at Stonegate, but it was a terrible mistake. He picked Dr Crane. Now he truly belonged at Arkham and he would never recover.
People like herself and Harley really shouldn't be at Arkham with those psychopaths. Nor were they always. Poison Ivy was on the side of good, the side of justice - they just wouldn't admit it. Harley was just a person who'd been too long under a crazy man's boot. Pamela smacked the map with her palm in frustration. She'd asked anyone she dared. Anyone. She could be certain her questions had made their way around town and there were bound to be people wondering why Poison Ivy wanted to know exactly what The Scarecrow might have asked for. It drew attention. If three of Gotham's most wanted people wanted it, it had to be worth getting. If only she could remember more.
She sighed. Dr Crane only had one plan, one goal, one result. He did it again and again. He was insane. Well, duh. Her stomach felt nauseous. If Harley really had spoken the truth, if they were actually partners, if she actually made some of the decisions - then the whole thing would be incredibly hard to predict. Pam flung that thought in the bin. No, her friend was brainwashed. He could absolutely do that and Harley wasn't exactly difficult to crack.
'Why, Harles'? We're friends…'
Her thoughts spun around her brain-centrifuge. Harley gave those plans on purpose. She'd never tricked her before. Never tried.
'North.'
Ivy jumped from her seat and ran to her bed, grabbing the bits of plans that had survived her anger and tried frantically to put them back together. She stared at the result.
Amusement park. Abandoned. Drainage system. Star-shaped.
He was a gargoyle. His hands steepled. His face made an emotionless mask of hessian. His legs were pulled up onto the seat and crossed. It amused her. That was such a childlike position and it was so at odds with his demeanor. He was surprisingly flexible for a man his age. The professional side of her mind knocked cautiously on the door to her attention. She knew - if she took the time to consider it, why she was also a little uneasy. Harley Quinn told herself it was just the excitement and trepidation of the big finale. But she knew better, really. Professor Crane was quite a sight whenever he was dragged back to Arkham - but most importantly he was extremely different than the person who'd come out of solitary a while later, play games with The Mad Hatter and speak kindly to her when she greeted him. She'd never felt frightened of him when he was yelling and raving. He was still nice to her after all. But he was cuffed and in custody then.
The burlap shifted. He looked at her with no eyes as the sounds of the city flew past the outside of the van. Harley grinned, banishing the thoughts. It was easy to think of this as just an excursion. The hyenas snapped at each other by her feet. The crates they were sitting on contained a horrifying amount of fear toxins. Harley's mind did what it did best and decorated it with rays of rosy light.
"You're… Ya aint still.. I couldn't leave the babies on the big night" she smiled, her voice sugary and squeaky.
Dr Crane said nothing. The Scarecrow raised a finger to where its mouth should be. Harley nodded in understanding. She kicked her feet, bounced on the crate, petted Lou. Still the knocking persisted in the back of her mind.
The men's faces were covered with both scarfs and masks. The smell had to be horrendous. He didn't register it. It certainly got through his mask, but The Scarecrow had never concerned himself with such trivialities.
"Faster, you imbeciles!" he cried at them.
The noise, the screeching, the banging was loud. They would be through the wall any second.
"Eww, yuck," he heard a voice behind him mutter.
Harley Quinn's boot covers were long enough that the sewage wouldn't touch her directly. He exhaled sharply.
'No,' said a voice in his mind.
The Scarecrow rolled his eyes - not that anyone could see. Reluctantly he held his tongue and turned away from the clown. This felt off somehow. The adrenaline rushed through him - and yet, he did not feel completely invincible as was the custom. It had something to do with her, and he wasn't certain how.
'Now we finish this,' he told himself as the bricks fell and they were through to the next section.
'Dr Quinzel will really enjoy this!'
'No, be quiet! This is for us!'
That showed him! Or… Himself. Never mind. The Scarecrow waded through the sewage with the others and climbed through the hole. A hand grabbed his shoulder once he was through. Harley Quinn used him as support to lower herself down on the other side without splashing filth everywhere.
"Gross!" She grimaced. "How much longer? 'We there yet?"
The Scarecrow watched her do this in silence. It was surreal to him. Of course he knew somewhere that his constant arguing with Jonathan Crane had to be stranger, but this was not the kind of thing he was likely to acknowledge. Harley linked her arm with his and walked forwards with him, trying to to slip. He said nothing. The lines between him and the professor bleed. He didn't like it - but he did not tell her to stop.
'North!'
The abandoned amusement park lay several miles north of Arkham. Pamela marked the position on her map and studied it carefully. Haarley would have found those plans while looking for what those two were after. That much was obvious. It also meant that it had to have come from the same filing cabinet. The cabinets were sorted according to lot numbers. The lot numbers related to specific geographical coordinates. This meant that the lot number on the amusement park had to be close to the numbers they had actually taken. In other words, whatever it was it would not be physically far from the amusement park.
The map itself told her very little. Pamela rushed to put up her hair, place a hat on her head and stumbled down into the reception of the hotel without closing her door.
"Yeah?" said the elderly man behind the counter.
"Phonebook!" snapped Pamela.
It was lucky that she left with one. Not everybody has a phonebook these days. She bolted back up the stairs and slammed the heavy book on the desk. She slammed the door, then flipped through the pages at an alarming speed until she reached the section with local maps. It didn't take long to find the amusement park. The phonebook was not new and the number was still listed. It was the outskirts of Gotham. Industrial. Not many things around. The amusement park, fireworks factory, Stonegate Penitentiary, a car dealership, a cannery, Mr Biggles Petemporium.
'Harles' would like the fireworks,' Pamela thought to herself.
But no, this wasn't a Harley Quinn operation. Not even if Harley told herself that. The Scarecrow didn't steal kitty litter or ride broken down teacups. He needed people to hurt for his own ends.
"Oh, you're in over your head, sweety," she whispered to herself as the realization climbed up her spine.
Crane was insane. She knew that of course but… Like this? Whether it worked or not he could only hope to gain one thing from this… Enemies. If she didn't get Harley out and unassociated - her friend would be in the middle of a bloodbath. These people with their grand delusions! But she couldn't stand by and let Harley do this! Poison Ivy rose from her chair. It could be tomorrow, it could be next week. It could be tonight. If it was, she'd have too little time. She paced up and down the length of the room. Something. Anything! A single idea!
She paused. It could work. It was a massive risk. If anyone found out she did that she'd have hurt her reputation massively. But if it worked… It would get Harley away from him for a very long time. Was she really considering this? Ivy glanced at the clock. The sun was setting. Ivy grabbed her things and hurried into the streets. She'd have to call in a lot of favors tonight.
"Another!" cried Scarecrow.
Harley smiled as Max began drilling another hole. She readied the mechanical device. If you didn't take the stench into account, this was actually fun! And there weren't any fish involved, which was a plus! She'd been very apprehensive at first, admittedly, not knowing exactly what Scarecrow in full bloom would be. Dr Crane was definitely scarier like this! But that was his whole deal, right? Besides, once she felt comfortable acting relaxed around him he didn't seem to mind. One thing was for sure… The professor was a good deal more talkative than the scarecrow - she'd never thought she'd be saying anything positive about Dr Crane's communication skills.
Plunk.
The drill was through and they would have been sprayed with water if Max hadn't learned by now to keep the drill in the hole until Harley was ready. She waded up to him. They locked eyes. Once they silently agreed he pulled out the drill and Harley replaced it with the device as fast as she could. Dr Crane attached another canister to a device behind them as Harley and Max secured the device to the pipe and turned it on.
"That's six, alright!" Harley squeaked.
"Update, Leonard!" Scarecrow said into the radio.
"Six online, boss!" they could all hear Lenny reply.
"How many do we need?" asked Tim.
"Lenny! Are the babies a-okay?" Harley said into the radio as she grabbed it from Scarecrow.
He paid no attention to her or the inhuman giggling that could be heard over the radio.
"This will do for the east wing. According to my calculations, we should reach the northern wing if we perambulate beyond that lattice. We will need eight additional placements there."
As Larry, the third of the men gone down with them, attempted to decide between a blowtorch and a crowbar - Harley, who had not had a satisfactory answer out of Lenny, handed the radio back to The Scarecrow and swiftly kicked in the rusty lattice.
"Well done, Miss Quinn," said the Scarecrow, shooting the others displeased looks.
Harley didn't notice the hesitation it caused in him when she responded by taking him by the hand and dragging him with her through the opening.
"Professor?" she said cheerily.
"... Yes?"
"Where should we put my canisters?"
He groaned loudly but reached into his bag and handed her one of the ones she designed nonetheless.
The rooftop was cold. The darkness lay draped over Gotham. It was strange, but despite its size and myriad of lights, Gotham seemed to swallow up everything bright. Poison Ivy was in her full costume, her red hair flowing in the wind. She should have brought a coat. The knife lay icy against her shin. An old pistol was in her hand behind her back. It hadn't been easy to come by and she had little ammo, but she had to be careful.
Any minute now. She kept watchful eyes, running her gaze over the rooftops. Still, she didn't see him coming - but she knew when he was there.
"So you came…" she said into the night.
"A strange invitation," replied a familiar deep voice. "The word is all over town that Poison Ivy wishes to see me."
"I figured it'd get 'round to you," Pamela replied shortly. "I need help."
"You do," replied Batman as he suddenly emerged from a completely different direction than Pamela could have sworn his voice had come from. "You will get that in Arkham."
"Don't think so," Ivy spat and raised the gun.
She couldn't win a fight right now. Well, it was unlikely. A fight wasn't the goal.
"So why don't you tell me why I'm here?" Batman calmly asked.
"It's… Harley," she replied. "Look, I hope you realize what I'm risking here. Half the town will know I'm talking to you - and they're all thinking the same thing: That I'm here snitching on them or cutting some sort of deal. I'm not in a position to stick my neck out."
The bat nodded.
"But here you are," he said.
"Crane's a fucking nutcase," she continued. "I know where he is. I know what he's doing. You have to stop him."
"I thought you said this was about Harley Quinn?" he said, narrowing his eyes.
"He's got her," Poison Ivy explained. "And I need to get her out. I'm serious. There'll be a target on my back once they all hear I snitched on that oversized Halloween decoration!"
Batman thought for a moment. That she had not yet revealed some sort of trap seemed to surprise him.
"If you come quietly I can get you protection," he assured her. "I'll get her."
"As if!" Ivy cried. "Not in Arkham, you can't! We'll go there together! Then maybe you'll get us too, who knows? But Scarecrow has to be a pretty good prize for you!"
"Where is he?" Batman asked, coming closer to her.
"Promise me!" Ivy insisted.
He paused, carefully studying her. She knew he was looking for signs of dishonesty. She honestly couldn't care less. He might try to take her now and she'd give him one hell of a fight.
"I promise," he finally said. "It's a deal, Ivy."
Poison Ivy nodded and exhaled in relief, carefully lowering the pistol.
"Let's go then," she commanded. "You'll drive."
TBC