AN: Own and make nothing.

The harlequin was humming cheerily as she crawled out of the manhole. Max was already out and helped her peel off the covers, dropping them back into the sewers. Giggling sounded from the van, discreetly parked in this narrow alley.

"Shh, babies," Harley quietly called in the direction of the doors, as the Scarecrow climbed out of the manhole.

Max lingered to help Larry and Tim out and reseal the opening. Harley skipped over to the van, opened the door in the back and giggled as Lou and Bud immediately sprung to her and started licking her face. She crawled inside with them. Most of the crates in the van were empty now and several had noticeable claw marks. Harley jumped up onto one and instantly had Lou in her lap even if he was much too large for her to handle. The Scarecrow was speaking to a rather sour-looking Lenny at the radio but Harley couldn't hear their conversation over the giggling of herself and her animals.

"This will be the difficult part," she heard the Scarecrow tell the other three men as they got inside and closed the doors.

Thomas started the engine and casually left the alley as Harley did her best to calm her fur-babies so she could hear. She knew the plan of course. Well, most of it. There were aspects to it too boring to really pay attention to. Anything that didn't directly involve her for instance. Despite the fact that they had all worn coverings and left them behind in the sewers, the putrid smell lingered, discreetly attached to them all. The tight space made it more obvious and as Dr Crane continued, Harley reached into her bag and got a corner store perfume out.

"Timothy will need time. Laurence, it is vital that you execute the distraction with immaculate punctuality! Do you have your tools?"

It was a good thing the van came to a halt because the Scarecrow's words were followed by quite a bit of coughing as Harley liberally sprayed the overly sweet, cheap scent all over her person. Larry quickly jumped out. The rest, save for the Scarecrow who seemed unaffected in his mask, got a breath of fresh air before the door was closed and the car continued.

"We will enter here," the Scarecrow continued as he pointed to a spot on a building schematic he had hastily produced and unfolded. "Surveillance is located here. Miss Quinn has most kindly insisted on providing our cover while we traverse this section."

Harley giggled. If Dr Crane had had his way, she'd have stayed behind in the van. She wasn't a porcelain doll and even if he didn't think so, she knew he'd need her protection. Plus, there was the fact that she wanted to see this up close just as much as he did. You couldn't deny her a little bit of fun, now could you?

"Leonard, you will maintain radio contact throughout, is that understood?"

"It's just up ahead," Tim interrupted the recap.

There was a moment's silence as every person in the van seemed to take that in. Even Bud and Lou momentarily seemed to cease their snaps and giggles to join in.

"Gentlemen," hissed the Scarecrow ominously, turning to look at each in turn. "Miss Quinn. The game is afoot. Prepare yourselves!"

The sinking feeling in her stomach did not lessen the closer they got. Really, she should be sitting here thinking how absolutely absurd this was. He was right next to her, steering the vehicle with expert precision and that stupid scowl on his face. She'd have never imagined in her wildest dreams that she'd be sitting in the front seat of the batmobile - no handcuffs. Pamela couldn't really phase into the present properly though. Everything was wrong. She shouldn't be doing this. She should be letting Harley make her famously stupid decisions - as she had before.

Funnily, if this had been the Joker, she'd have felt less apprehensive. People weren't going to mess with Harley over things she'd done on the Joker's time. Not even something like this. The clown pulled too much weight with the Gotham lowlifes. They feared him too much. Oddly, the self proclaimed 'god of fear' didn't really have that edge. His schemes didn't pay as well - obviously, and so he didn't work with as many people. That also meant he didn't have the reputation and connections among them to prevent there being people that thought they could easily take him on and win.

"Are we there soon?" Pamela asked.

She didn't really want to know, she could see the streets fly by for herself, but she needed to get out of her own head.

"Soon," Batman replied shortly.

She rolled her eyes at his conversation-skills.

"What's our angle? When we get there?" she continued. "I don't know how he's going to do it."

"We watch," replied the bat. "Professor Crane will do the same. Whichever is the best spot for that. That's where he'll be."

Poison Ivy nodded.

"What about Harley?" she said.

He nodded but said nothing. They both knew. They had no idea what she'd be doing.

The wait was the worst. They'd disguised themselves. It was only a few minutes until Larry would begin the planned chain of events. Still, Jonathan's body was jittery and tense. It was everything he wanted and he could barely contain the thrill and the adrenaline. Dr Quinzel looked so disturbingly different. It was not the first time he had seen her 'in costume' but he never failed to be impressed with just how good an actress she was. The clown makeup had been hastily wiped off, she wore the brown wig and her attire was what Jonathan would call modest and she had loudly complained was 'frumpy'.

Tim and Max had changed into overalls. Tom and Lenny stayed behind in the van. This time Jonathan was taking no chances. Even if - God forbid, something went wrong and he was taken into custody, the data would still be recorded and hidden by his men. That was as wild an improvement as he had made this time around. The rest… The rest was her.

He looked at his watch - a scratched, but high quality old thing, which had survived eons of time in Arkham's personal items storage.

"Less than ten minutes yet," he quietly said.

Unlike Dr Quinzel, he had not put very much effort into his disguise. He wore his regular clothes over his costume. The coat was almost all that was visible and it would do because not many people would recognise him like this. Yes, his face had been on 'wanted'-lists plenty of times but as he was neither grotesque in appearance, beautiful or noteworthy, the vast majority of people only knew him by sight when he was in his scarecrow mask. Even so, half of it was covered by an apricot scarf. Jonathan stepped forward into the light of the streetlamp above them. He held out his arm and waited for the grinning harlequin to take it. She blew a kiss at the hyenas who sat surprisingly quietly behind the men and together they began making their way towards the main entrance.

The large letters above the gate read 'Stonegate Penitentiary' in far more modern and less charming calligraphy than the Arkham gate. Not that Jonathan cared for that place. He was distracted from his thoughts on gate-calligraphy by the quiet humming of his companion. She turned to him and looked up at him with such glee and excitement that he was a little taken aback by it.

"Whadda ya thinking about?" Harley asked.

"Nothing of importance," Jonathan replied, placing a hand on the arm linked in his.

"Don't worry 'bout it," she continued. "Let me do da talkin', professor."

Jonathan refrained from commenting that they wouldn't be best served by it, if she was doing it in that voice. Instead he nodded and gave her a weak smile. If he was honest, the fact that he was doing this first part without his scarecrow-appearance was a source of some vulnerability and unease.

'I am here.'

Yes, he was. Always near. He knew what the Scarecrow would say. They didn't need her. The words did not come and his mind was silent as they reached the checkpoint.

"Hold it," said the guard behind the glass window. "Who's there?"

Harley let go of him and stepped up to the window, raising a card for the guard to see.

"Janice Dalton," she said clearly in her natural pitch. "Attorney. Mr Beech, the gentleman behind me has engaged me for the defense of his son, Trevor Beech. We're here for Mr Beech to see his son and so that I may have a legal consultation with my client!"

"A moment," the guard mumbled and he frantically looked through the database on his computer.

Jonathan said nothing but made it a point to hunch slightly and maintain a grave but sorrowful expression.

"Trevor Beech doesn't have any visitation appointment in the system," the guard returned, finally looking up. "Ma'am, this isn't even visitation hours."

"Mr Beech, I'll just be a moment. I'm sorry," Harley said to Jonathan before turning back to the guard. "You know perfectly well that a prisoner has a right to a legal consultation when their previous attorney is dismissed for misrepresentation! Let me speak to your superior! We have limited time before Trevor's appeal begins!"

It was absolute nonsense - that was plain, but she said it with such confidence and indignation that Jonathan was surprised to find her quite convincing.

"I'll call her," the guard assured them.

"Mr Beech has difficulty walking!" Harley insisted. "Are you going to let him stand here until you have time to correct this?"

"No, I…" The guard began.

"Tell her we'll wait for her in the entrance hall," Harley said firmly.

"Uhh… Alright," the guard replied, pressing the button opening the gate for them.

"Thank you, sweetie," Harley smiled, taking Jonathan's arm and pulling him along.

Jonathan adopted just a slight limp on this journey, adapting to her story.

"Well done," he whispered.

"Piece of cake," Harley smiled. "They jump at the chance to pass a problem on to someone else. 'Sides, we just need to get in."

"Did you have to make me feeble?" He teased her. "Perhaps you think I pass easily for retirement age?"

"I improvised," she chuckled. "'Swear ya don't look a day over eighty!"

"Careful," he returned, squeezing her arm in a warning.

The main doors opened before them and Harley's heels clicked on the linoleum floor of the entrance hall. Jonathan looked at his watch. Harley chatted with the guard at the reception desk as he took a seat on a bench. A matter of seconds. He closed his eyes.

"What on…!" cried the receptionist and shouting erupted among the three guards present as the lighting momentarily disappeared, then came back red.

"Emergency power switched on for sectors E, A, G, D 1-6," said a mechanical voice over the speakers.

A vast area of the city section was now in a blackout. Max and Tim would be at the staff entrance by now. He knew that in a panic they'd call in all the maintenance staff on breaks, whether they had real ID-badges or not. The two officers in the reception frantically attempted to restart the computers, which had gone out completely during the switch.

"What's going on?" Harley cried as she jumped from her seat and rushed towards the front desk.

"No need to panic, miss!" yelled an especially panicked guard. "We've… It's all under control!"

Harley Quinn then promptly began swaying. Jonathan rushed off of the bench and towards her, though he purposely made sure to be too slow to have any chance of reaching her before she collapsed. And she did, as soon as the guards had all abandoned their tasks to assist her. Holding a handkerchief over her mouth, she rolled her eyes and fell limply backwards into the waiting arms of an officer. Jonathan pressed the scarf firmly over his own mouth and nose. From his fingers sounded a metallic click, followed by the familiar sound of the pressure release on the gas capsules hidden in his gloves. They didn't even notice until it was too late. He grabbed Harley and pulled her up as the guards began coughing loudly. Together they rushed behind the counter. Jonathan took a set of keys there as Harley put on a gasmask from her bag. The Scarecrow pulled his own mask over his head and went back momentarily to swipe the key card from the belt of a guard before Harley began dragging their bodies across the floor and behind the counter. It was her idea - that it wasn't fear gas. He had to admit it was practical to have multiple options - and being unconscious, they attracted much less attention.

He swiped the card on a nearby reader, gaining login-access to the computer this way. All they had to do now was hope Tim and Max had paid proper attention to the blueprints Harley had acquired and knew which way to go.

"Last one," gasped Harley as she came for the last guard.

He nodded, but did not look up as he unlocked two doors in one of the corridors through the computer system.

"Did you take a key card?" he said into the monitor.

"Uh-huh!" she replied as she planted the last guard behind the counter.

The doors to one of the corridors flew suddenly open and both of them dove behind the counter on instinct.

"Boss?" they heard Max cautiously call out.

"Here!" the Scarecrow replied as they both popped back up.

Max rolled the cart in front of him. One of the wheels squeaked loudly. Tim was behind him. Scarecrow relocked the doors.

"Was it hard gettin' in?" Harley cheerily greeted them.

Max removed the top layers of sheets in the cart and a giggle came from beneath.

"Oh, babies!" Harley cried through the mask, completely losing interest in an answer to her question.

The hyenas jumped out of the card yipping, jumping around her and licking her face.

"You've been so good! Yes, ya have!"

"Maximillian, see to these unfortunate souls before you join us!" commanded the Scarecrow, pointing at the guards before offering Harley Quinn his arm. "Come along, my dear, it is time we move on. Timothy, put on your mask."

She giggled and took his arm. The hyenas followed, once in a while snapping at the Scarecrow's heels, but he ignored them. He trembled. His companion's skipping made their armlink awkward. It felt… peaceful.

Jeremy Butler was not a racecar driver - but he'd driven a taxi once and that he considered one of the best honest jobs he ever had. The skills you could learn from that kind of work were severely underrated. It had taught him a lot about which people to trust and which you shouldn't. It had taught him where you could take shortcuts and drive up one way streets without getting caught. It had taught him the layout of Gotham. He used to boast he could find his way around town blindfolded. Still, this was something else. Trying to stay on the tail of the batmobile without detection wasn't exactly plausible. But, as he said, he knew who to trust and who not to trust. He trusted his boss to make good on his promise to feed him the bears at the zoo if he didn't pull this off.

That black machine was insane - and the Batman funnily enough wasn't the best at following traffic laws. This would be a lot easier if Jeremy knew where they were heading. He'd be there before Batman. He furiously wiped sweat off his forehead. The mood was tense. He felt his employers eyes in the back of his head. They'd only had a few moments to get ready once that redheaded broad followed batty boy. Actually it was a testament to their skill that neither she nor the bat knew they were listening. Of course it wasn't like the big man was going to praise them for that.

He sped up after taking a pretty nasty turn, sending most folks in the car slamming into each other. Someone was going to die tonight and it sure as hell wasn't going to be Jeremy.

"Where did it come from?" Poison Ivy asked.

They'd entered a northern city section just as everything had gone black around them. All the windows were dark, the streetlights too.

"The computer says Westpoint Electrical Station," the bat calmly stated as he continued dodging cars and obstacles.

"It's targeted!" Ivy declared.

"Mmm," was Batman's only comment.

How could he be so calm about it? Shouldn't they at least check it out? It was awfully convenient that this section of the city had been affected. Yes, it could be someone else but Pamela felt in her gut this wasn't so. No, she was getting distracted. He was right, they should continue to their destination. The worry was eating at her. So was the anger. How could Harley just put her in this position? Didn't she ever learn? Didn't she ever listen?

"Any news? Riots? Something going on up there?" Pamela insisted, reaching for the computer.

Batman's hand flew out catching her by the wrist, without him taking his eyes off the road.

"Don't touch it," he said ominously. "Stay put."

Poison Ivy crossed her arms with a huff. She was doing him a massive favour. Basically handing him Crane on a silver platter. The least he could do was be civil.

"We'll stop here," he continued. "Keep the car out of sight."

As he slowed down, Pamela looked out of the window, seeing the dark silhouettes of industrial buildings. Stonegate was just down the road. They drove into an alley with almost no sound from the engines. She jumped when the passenger door popped open and got out with a glare in his direction for not warning her. As he got out, the doors shut and within a minute the car had disguised itself as a garbage container before her eyes.

"I'd say I'm impressed," said Ivy with a whistle. "But you'd never take the compliment."

"Let's move," replied the bat. "Quietly."

"Let's…" Ivy mockingly repeated as she tiptoed after him.

As they stepped into the street the streetlights flicked back on. The electrical crisis was no more. Pamela saw the walls of Stonegate over the other roofs. Red light in several windows flickered and then returned to yellow. A shudder went through her - not from the memories of her time behind those walls but of the rare roses which gave their lives for this monstrous eyesoar. A car parked itself down the street and they both hid behind a parked car until the headlights of the first had turned off. Then made their way towards the riverside dungeon.

"Ay, Lenny! Come in!" said Harley.

As she spoke into the radio she was roughly applying white paint to her face, using only her reflection in a monitor.

"Here, Miss Quinn!" said a distorted voice at the other end.

"We're in! Tim and the 'fessor's just about ready-eddy!"

The Scarecrow flipped through the security cameras as Tim struggled with the transmitter. It was easy for him. All he had to do was bag his clothes and put on his mask and hat. Still, Harley wasn't going to complain. Show-makeup made a huge difference.

"Hand me that, Miss Quinn," said Scarecrow, holding out his hand without looking at her.

Harley handed over the radio with a high pitched 'hmm!' before turning her full attention to what she was doing. She grabbed the second stick of cheap halloween makeup and quickly blackened her lips and eyelids.

"Are you receiving anything?" said Scarecrow behind her.

"Just static, boss… Hang on. Yeah, there was an image!" Lenny replied.

"Okay, what about now?" asked Tim from beneath the table.

"Leonard?"

"Yeah, it's coming through! Not too clear but I am getting it!" said the radio.

Harley listened to them with amusement. This was all Dr Crane really cared about. She couldn't wait to get busy. There was a slight knock on the door to the surveillance room. There was no hint of apprehension in either of them. They all knew who it was. Harley, satisfied with her work, opened the door to find Max - looking pretty damn handsome, if you asked her, in a prison guard uniform.

"We all clear, ma'am?" he quietly asked Harley as the Scarecrow began loudly lecturing Lenny on the 'importance of precision in scientific study' - whatever that was about.

"Sure," Harley grinned. "My, looking pretty dapper there, Max! What's it with nerves? All set, sweety?"

"Oh.." the tall goon replied, blushing slightly and sending shifty looks in his employer's direction. "Yeah… I'll go and man the front then. You tell… You tell the boss, eh?"

Harley nodded and Max looked to the others one last time before closing the door again. Harley jumped into one of the swivel chairs. Muffled protests and oaths could be heard coming from the supply closet in the corner. Harley idly spun back and forth a few times before letting out a loud sigh.

"And furthermore, I will have you remember that the result will be subject to debate for generations! My work will lay the foundation for the expansion of the psychological field! We must rise above the mediocre plebeians in order for my exceptional work to endure!" boomed the Scarecrow, ignoring her.

"Try it again, Lenny!" called Tim from beneath the table.

"And I will have you know…" continued the Scarecrow unhindered.

"It's the Stanford Prison experiment 2.0," Harley mumbled, her pitch naturally lowering.

Scarecrow spun around, leaving Tim and Lenny to finetune on their own, and stomped over to Harley. He stopped, towering over her. Harley smiled, clicked her tongue and kept swaying from side to side. As she didn't make any further comment, he reached out and grabbed the arm of the chair, stopping her swaying.

"Dr Quinzel," he said, lowering his head.

Harley grinned wider but still pressed her back a little harder against the back of the chair.

"Uh-huh?"

"Are you calling my research banal?" said the burlap mask.

She couldn't help it. It was too tempting - even if she felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. It was just as much the thrill as the fear.

"What if I did, professor?" she smiled, batting her eyes.

He paused for a moment, before she felt his gloved finger gently tapping her nose.

"Now is not the time to tease me," he told her sternly. "We are in a detention center."

"Oh no! Help! I'm getting detention!" Harley cried dramatically and fell to her knees on the floor, clasping her hands.

"That is not what I meant and you know it," said the Scarecrow with a sudden hint of warmth in his tone as he reached down for her hand and helped her up. "But do not tempt me."

"Eh… Boss?" said Tim, having gotten out from under the table. "The signal's clear. We're recording."

"Yay!" cried Harley and squeezed the Scarecrow's hand in excitement. "Oh, let's go! Let's go!"

Her partner let go of her and reached into his bag for what looked like a very fancy remote control. He pressed a few buttons.

"They're online, boss," said Lenny's voice over the radio.

"Both of you… Masks on," the Scarecrow continued before pressing the final button.

Harley opened the supply closet after getting her mask. The hyenas giggled and ran in circles around the hogtied and gagged guard, laying on the floor.

"Babies! Be good and protect Tim, now!" she said to them. "Mommy loves ya! I'll be right back, okay?"

"Miss Quinn?"

"Comin'!" she cheerily cried as she grabbed a wrench from the closet.

"Notebook and pen, my dear," the Scarecrow said, pinching the bridge of his nose through the mask.

"Right, right!" she laughed and took the items before hurriedly joining him in the now open door.

"You are a scientist, not a hooligan," he whispered, closing the door behind them.

"Not really my style, professor," she laughed, showing him she had not left the wrench behind.

"Well, let this be your first lesson then," he nodded.

He marched down the corridor. Harley skipped after him, snaking her arm around his.

TBC