CHAPTER 20:

PLANNING A CAPER

After that incident, Harley's crew and its associates fell into a nice new equilibrium. On Mirielle's pestering, Sy gave Pamela her apartment back. However, for now, Pamela was content to use the derelict mall as a base, as she had more than enough room for a garden.

Unofficially, the crew called themselves Harley's Marauders, a tribute to the pranksters that included Harry's father. Harry wondered if his father, or indeed any of the Marauders (barring Pettigrew, because fuck that traitorous rat) or his mother would approve. In the end, maybe they would, and maybe they wouldn't. But they were dead, and couldn't voice their approval or disappointment to him themselves. They could if he had the Resurrection Stone, but he didn't, and he didn't have the inclination to get it or use it.

Harry now had a family of sorts, a family of choice. He was already on good terms with Nanaue before he joined Harley's crew, and Clayface, once you got past the ridiculous hamminess, was quite joyful to be around. Harley surrounded herself with people who were positive, despite being the misfits of the underworld, and it was infectious, helping him and Pamela grow more positive. And of course, there was Hermione, Luna and Delphi.

He tried to ignore the nagging thoughts about his children with Ginny. That way led to anger, some of it unreasonable, and feelings of impotence, which were reasonable. Whatever Ginny was doing, it was under the radar, even with Hermione and Luna's hacking expertise, to say nothing of Nanaue's. There were occasions where she was spotted by their contacts, but in brief.

Of course, Harley, despite the horror stories Pamela had to tell about the Legion of Doom, was still looking to get into it. So they were still doing heists. Like the one they just finished.

Harley had wanted to rob the exhibition of Tutankhamun that was happening at the Gotham Museum, but she had the sense to contact Hermione and Luna beforehand. And luckily she did, as the coffin and the mummy inside were fabrications, the original being deemed too valuable and fragile to send abroad, especially to a crime-riddled city like Gotham. This nettled Harley somewhat, but she soon found an alternative.

When she went on heists like this, Harry knew that she, like many of Gotham's criminals, didn't target expensive items, at least all the time. Each supervillain had something of a theme, and Harley was still finding hers after leaving the Joker. She still had the same 'anarchistic clown' vibe as Joker, and she needed to find her particular niche.

It was Hermione and Luna's suggestion that she robbed a different part of the museum instead. While she was far from the first psychiatrist or psychologist turned supervillain, she decided to make that part of her gimmick. She stole Sigmund Freud's chaise longue, on loan from the Freud Museum in London.

Pamela whistled as Harry unshrunk it after he took it from his pocket, laying it out. "Holy shit…you did it."

"Yep," Harley said, lying down on it and putting her hands behind her head. "Don't get me wrong, Freud was too obsessed with his dick and his mother, and he also thought Shakespeare didn't exist as anything but a pseudonym(1), which is crazy talk, and that's funny coming from me, but…well, can't deny his contribution to psychiatry, am I right? This actually feels more fun than stealing King Tut's manky mummy. Besides, I know you were going to see it this weekend, Ive."

"Yeah, and after what Oracle told us, it'd probably for the best we didn't steal a mock-up," Nanaue remarked, as he went over to his laptop and began pulling up Harley's online profile on Villainy. "I mean, it would have still been valuable, what with all the gold leaf, but…I also feel a bit bad for poor King Tut. And apparently the body's getting pretty fragile, hence the decoy."

"Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!" Clayface declared. "Of course, that was Ozymandias, Ramses II, not Tutankhamun, but even the greatest works wear away due to time and tide. Especially pertinent in this age of social media. Why, few remember me and my films. But…"

"Well, here's hoping they remember you, Clayface," Harley said. "And all of us. And I know that they are going to remember me as being something more than the Joker's sextoy! Speaking of, Nanaue, anything on our heist? Surely it's all over the news?"

Nanaue frowned. "Sorry, Harley. There's more than a few mentions on social media, but they're keeping the news suppressed. And I'm afraid there's worse news. KGBeast is being nominated for membership into the Legion of Doom."

Harley growled, before getting off the chaise longue and walking over to peer over Nanaue's shoulder. "Oh, for fuck's sake. I'm better than some relic from the Cold War! Let's see…Long overdue. Yay…Worked with him on three assassinations. Couldn't have happened to a better guy…" she muttered, reading the comments, her eyes narrowing with rage with every comment.

Clayface joined her. "Oh wait, there is one about you. Why is nobody talking about Harley Quinn? I nominate her to sit on my face…oh my."

Harry saw Harley grab her baseball bat, and he put himself between her and the chaise lounge that was her target. "HARLEY! Do not damage your trophies, please? Or others' personal possessions. I can repair them easily enough, but prevention is better than the cure."

Harley, thankfully, halted, before she shook her head. "Okay, you're right. I've got an entire abandoned shopping mall of shit to smash. But God, I need a lot. I've been busting my ass trying to get noticed by the Legion for…two months now? And so have you guys. You, Clayface, Nanaue…Ive's been helping out…excuse me a moment, I need to go and break some shit. Harry, can you please come with me? I know you don't have to repair the worthless crap, but it's good to have renewable resources, right?"

Harry nodded, sighing as he followed Harley into what had once been a homewares store specialising in crockery. Not the good, elegant kind either, but cheap and nasty shit, not unlike those kitschy kitten plates Umbridge so loved. With a snarl, she picked one mug off the shelf, one showing a caricature of George Washington with a shit-eating grin filled with wooden teeth, and flung it into the air, before smashing it with her bat. This process was repeated about a dozen times, before she was done.

"Okay…I'm a little calmer now." Harley then sat on the counter, with Pamela walking in, the clown girl putting her face into her hands. "…Fuck…fuck…"

"So…I noticed you're being more…well, Harley than usual," Pamela said as Harry began repairing the mugs and replacing them on the shelf. "Is there anything we can do?"

"No. I'm just…so frustrated at the whole thing. Dr Psycho left, and I'm not sure whether it's because I'm a shit leader or he was just unmanageable."

"He was a piece of shit, Harley," Harry said, gently rubbing her back. "You're still learning to be a leader, and I guess he was the first lesson: don't pick just anyone to be part of their crew. Nobody else would take him, and that was why."

"…Thanks, Harry, but there's more to it than that." She looked over at Pamela. "Ive, I know you say that the Legion are pieces of shit, but even if the Joker doesn't quite respect them, he takes notice of them," Harley said. "Unless I'm in the Legion, I'll never match up to him."

Pamela chuckled. "It's like I said before, you're basically not over your ex, and you want to throw your success into his face, which is the most relatable thing you've ever said." Her face fell. "Still, it's an uphill struggle, trying to get noticed by those asshats. It's not just female supervillains. KGBeast took decades to be nominated, and I know of more than a few who took years to be nominated."

"I don't want to wait years! At this rate, I'll be fucking menopausal before they take notice! And I don't want to do all that 'kill them all' shit that the Queen of Fables did. Ive, Two-Face told us you knocked it back a lot of times. Do you have, well, any advice?"

"I'm not sure. I never really wanted their attention in the first place. Honestly, like I said, Luthor's invited me mainly to tick boxes. And not just the whole being a woman thing. I can't think of any florokinetics on the Legion of Doom. Woodrue's more of an independent who doesn't give a shit about the Legion, one of the few things we have in common, and Swamp Thing is a hero…well, loosely. That being said, I've been thinking…I haven't gotten an invitation since a little before I found Harry. If they do try again, instead of telling them to fuck off, I'll put your name forward. Hopefully, they'll leave me alone, bring you in, and everyone, I hope, is happy. Except the Joker, because fuck him."

"…Thanks, Pamela," Harley said with a small smile. "But in the meantime, we need to hit bigger targets, see if that gets the Legion's attention. I'll call for a brainstorming huddle in a moment, I need ideas. As much as I want a different kind of smashing for stress relief later," she winked at Harry and Pamela, "I think we need to up our game. No rest for the wicked, right?"

"We're with you, Harley," Harry said, before kissing her. Pamela followed it up with a kiss of her own, and by the end of it, Harley seemed a lot happier and relaxed.

"Fuck…I needed that." With that, Harley strutted out, her two lovers following, their gazes straying to her hotpants-clad arse. Sy and Mirielle were now present, having spent some time poring over some research notes of the latter. She clapped loudly to get the others' attention. "Okay, look alive people! I'm calling this little session of the Marauders to order! We need to up our game, get ourselves noticed by the Legion of Doom. So, any ideas?"

Sy pulled a phone out of his cybernetic leg. "Maybe I could call my old pal Hank Kissinger? There's sure to be a few war crimes he hasn't committed."

"…He's still alive?" Harry asked(2).

"And I'm not sure whether I want to brand myself as a war criminal, Sy, though I appreciate the thought," Harley said. "I want attention, not that kind of attention." Her gaze roamed over to Nanaue, who was tapping away at his laptop. "Nanaue, what are you doing?"

"Updating your profiles, Harley. And don't worry, I'm thinking of ideas. I'd suggest a cryptocurrency heist, but that shit is more volatile than a leaking gas pipe, and besides, cybercrime is not something that gets you on the news, until they arrest you, anyway."

"…Who even uses that shit?" Mirielle muttered.

"It's not a bad idea, Nanaue, but we need something to get us noticed." Harley was looking at the back of Nanaue's laptop, before her eyes widened on seeing a distinctive logo. "Waynetech, of course!" She hurried over to a pile of Pamela's magazines, digging around before fishing out a tech magazine. "Behold, ladies, gentlemen, and other genders and species: our next target!"

Harry blinked as he saw the magazine cover. "…An invisible motorbike? How does…how does that even work? How do you market something like that?"

"If you build it, they will come," Clayface declared.

"But how do you see the accelerator? The speedometer? Can you turn the invisibility off? Does it make the rider invisible? If none of the above have a satisfactory answer, then Bruce Wayne is pissing money up the wall."

"But stealing it will be one hell of an achievement," Harley said with a smirk. "So, unless someone has better ideas, we're taking on Wayne Enterprises tonight. We're gonna Fast and Furious 7 it." On their blank looks, she sighed. "Okay, that means the one where they shoot a car between skyscrapers, but ultimately, it's about family. Nanaue, you'll get to show off your hacking skills with the security system. Clayface, you're the diversion. We'll figure out a role for you to play, but I'm thinking disgruntled customer. You know, who's persistent about complaining about a defective product. Ive, if you're fine with joining this, you and Harry are going to help us get in. I'm betting there'll be biometrics shit involved. Given that Psycho is not one of us anymore, and Harry has qualms about using the Imperius, you can use your pheromones. Just make sure it isn't the shit that turns people into trees. The motorbike is on the 26th floor. Sy, you want in?"

"Hell yeah! I'll help the shark get into the security system. I've got a few toys from old friends that will help him break in remotely."

"Right. Let's nut out the rest of the plan, and then rest up. I know you guys want to rest for a bit longer after the museum heist, but no matter what happens tonight, we'll take a longer rest, okay?"

Harley's enthusiasm won the others over, Harry could tell. Harley hadn't exactly been making them burn the midnight oil, but there were occasions when he wished she would ease up a little on her heists. To her credit, when he brought it up, she tried taking it down a notch, but the news and social media today hadn't helped matters.

Still, this could go very well, or very badly. Then again, considering what he and Pamela hypothesised about Bruce Wayne being the Batman, were they about to poke their finger into a hornet's nest? Harry hoped that wasn't the case…

CHAPTER 20 ANNOTATIONS:

So, there you have it. This is the first part of the adaptation of You're a Good Cop, Jim Gordon. Things will go somewhat differently compared to canon for various reasons, partly because Dr Psycho isn't present, and Harry can be versatile in many ways. The next chapter will take some time getting out, but this one was mostly finished, until I had to concentrate on other things. I thought it would be a good chapter to post for the new year.

Tutankhamun's mummy being a decoy was something that came from Harley Quinn's Red Mark. I decided that stealing Sigmund Freud's famous lounge would actually fit in with Harley pretty well, give her a signature beyond basically being a genderflipped Joker with more morals. There's a number of Batman villains who are former psychiatrists or psychologists, but none have a psychiatry or psychology-based robbery gimmick.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Review-answering time! Skull Flame: In the Harley Quinn series, Sy has a sister. I dunno whether he does in the comics.

Yorae Rasante: Well, to be perfectly honest, it's viewed as one of the strongest expletives in the English language, above even 'fuck', and yes, that's even in Australia, outside of certain socioeconomic areas. It doesn't help that the word does have some misogynistic implications. I myself rarely use it in both speech and writing, and considering how much I personally swear like a sailor, that's saying something. I've only used it a few times in my fanfics prior to this one, with the examples I remember being Yamori using it in my Tokyo Ghoul crossover Janus, and Jack in my Mass Effect crossover Quarian's Wizard.

That being said, Dr Psycho's usage of the word 'cunt' being treated like it's the worst thing he could have done is definitely from the series, albeit in a way that's meant to be humorous (Black Mask doing the same thing was my own invention for this fic: he's a misogynist in the comics, but he doesn't appear in Harley Quinn in any way AFAIK). Harry is more concerned with Dr Psycho being a misogynistic mind-rapist than a potty-mouth, though.

1. Believe it or not, Sigmund Freud is one of those who believed Shakespeare to be a pseudonym or cover identity for another playwright.

2. I actually thought, when I watched the episode, that Henry Kissinger had died long ago. But nope, as of writing this, he's still alive.