Theme: Marie Davidson - 'Renegade Breakdown'
The Pantomime
18.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Harley sighed when she saw that Ed had returned with a garment bag, shoe boxes, and multiple shopping bags in different shapes and sizes from Saks, the most high-end department store in the city.
"You didn't really expect me to walk around in twenty-year-old Kirkland Brand, did you?" Ed demanded, looking scandalized.
"No, I expected you to blend in and lay low instead of being a slave to your own vanity," Harley snapped back, which got an offended little gasp out of Ed.
"Oh, sure, because wearing ridiculous clothes that don't fit makes it so easy to blend in," Ed huffed imperiously, plucking up a small bag and waving it at the Joker, who was hanging back in the doorway to the bedroom, his face completely blank, his jaw twitching. "I got you something, J," Ed sang, shimmying closer. "They're purple."
Harley watched the Joker light a cigarette, glowering at Ed over the flame like he was trying to set him on fire with his thoughts alone. She shared the sentiment, though inwardly she conceded that Ed made a good point about their clothes, and he had managed to choose something relatively tame for himself despite his preference for white suiting with shoulder pads.
"Ed," Harley warned him. "J is going to rip your head off, and I'm not going to try to stop him."
"Alright, alright, jeez," Ed tisked, rolling his eyes as he dropped the small bag in favor of a big one and collapsed on the couch.
"You were gone for eight hours," Harley pointed out, watching the Joker out of the corner of her eye as he started going through the bags, his hair flopping over his face, a cigarette pinched between his lips and smoke billowing out of his nose. "What happened to all that good news, huh?"
"Well, I met Vicki," Ed sighed, pulling a large white box out of a Saks bag and holding it close to his chest. "She's cute. I get why you like her."
"And?" Harley pressed, frowning when the Joker staggered into the bedroom with some of the bags, slamming the door behind him.
"And she said she'll ask her boy-toy who to talk to about what kinda damage Anarky can do but…" Ed feigned a wince. "She wants to see you in person."
"Really?" Harley raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "You were supposed to convince her without me."
"Oh, come on, as if you only sent me because you couldn't go yourself," Ed shot back smugly, crossing his ankle over his knee, exposing a pair of blindingly pink argyle socks. "You two are hiding out here with no backup and no friends, so you sent me on this little mission to get the lay of the land and see if you could get me to work for you. It's right out of Black Mask's playbook."
Harley sighed and glanced at the closed bedroom door where she could hear the Joker puttering around.
Maybe Ed wasn't such a moron, after all.
"But Roman would never take a risk like that," Ed continued, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he patted the Saks box. "That just screams sexy-chaotic terrorist to me."
"Uh huh," Harley said drily. He wasn't wrong, and she didn't feel compelled to lie to him. "How was Vicki?"
"Very stressed out," Ed grimaced, his white teeth snapping together. "I'm not sure Brucey's as good at helping her relax as your eye-candy is."
Harley rolled her eyes, bottling the urge to smack Ed. She sensed that, like the Joker, he would only be encouraged by negative attention.
"When does Vicki want to meet?" she asked, looking at the Saks box, which Ed was now stroking like a Bond villain. Harley knew instinctively that he'd bought her something ludicrous and fashiony to wear.
In his own twisted way, Ed respected her. She just needed to play that to her advantage, even if it also meant he wanted to collect her like his suits and artwork…
And dress her up as his own personal Barbie, apparently…
"Tonight," Ed said, looking pleased with himself. "Guess who else got in touch with dear Vicki since you disappeared?"
"I don't like to guess," Harley scowled.
"Jonny Frost," Ed waggled his eyebrows. "Oh my God, he loves you guys."
"Frost got in touch with Vicki?" Harley's eyes widened.
"Yep," Ed nodded smugly, obviously thinking he'd brought them something valuable. Which… he may have done. "He wants to meet you tonight. He says he's got a friend to introduce you to."
Harley ground her teeth, thinking fast. It could be a trick. It could be Roman getting the upper hand on them again. She had more questions, but before she could get them out, the Joker banged out of the bedroom, wearing a new suit that almost fit as well as his usual custom-made ones. It was navy blue with a pinstripe, paired with a pale lavender shirt and a maroon tie he was currently fiddling with. It was a more subtle color palette but something about it still felt like the Joker.
He raked a hand through his hair and ran his tongue over his teeth, his expression still decidedly sour. But still, he looked more alive and like himself than he had in days, maybe weeks, and Harley had to fight back a pleased smile so Ed wouldn't see.
She knew how much the Joker loved a good suit.
The sun had only just set when Dinah slipped onto the roof of the MCU. She'd received a text from Essen that afternoon requesting a meetup, and with zero leads on the Joker and Harley, Dinah was eager to find out if the police had turned up something she and Bruce hadn't.
It had been a week since Harley's attack on City Hall, and Gotham felt eerily quiet. Aside from the night of the Wayne Foundation Fundraiser, Dinah and Bruce had been out every night hunting down leads, and it had been a dead-end at every turn.
On the bright side, Bruce finally had his head in the game. Dinah got the distinct impression Vicki was avoiding him, and she couldn't help being pleased about that development. There was way too much on the line for distractions. Personal lives had to take a backseat.
The door to the roof banged open, and Detective Montoya appeared, sucking on an e-cigarette as she looked around the rooftop, squinting into the darkness.
Dinah stepped out of the shadows when her back was turned.
"Where's Essen?" she hissed, prompting Montoya to swing around.
"You really sneak up like that every time, huh?" she drawled, tucking her cigarette away. She pulled Essen's burner phone out of her blazer and waved it at Dinah. "Essen's got some politics she's gotta deal with. She passed this on to me."
"Politics?" Dinah asked.
"The Mayor's gonna make her Commissioner if he wins re-election," Montoya explained drily, looking amused. "But he didn't realize she's dating our disgraced former Commissioner."
"City Hall doesn't want to be connected to Gordon after Dent," Dinah inferred.
"You got it," Montoya sighed. "Essen's trying to clean it up, so for now," she waved the phone again. "This is on me, and I really hope you got some news on the clowns."
"No," Dinah felt herself deflate. "It's unusually quiet out there right now."
"Same on our side," Montoya ran her tongue over her teeth, looking thoughtful. "I did get one lead, but… it's not going anywhere so far."
Dinah looked up hopefully. "Maybe I can help."
"Maybe you can," Montoya agreed, raising her eyebrows. "A source of mine says Porter and Akins were both investigating Daggett Shipping. Judge Chiecco was planning on issuing warrants to get a closer look at Daggett's books." She shrugged mildly. "Could be a coincidence, or it could be the clowns were covering for Daggett."
"No," Dinah shook her head. "If anything, they would expose Daggett. They wouldn't work for him."
"That's what I said," Montoya sighed. "But what are the chances it's a real coincidence? Maybe the angle isn't that they're covering it up—maybe there's something more at play."
"Part of a bigger picture," Dinah agreed quietly.
"Exactly," Montoya pulled her e-cigarette from her suit jacket and took a drag, its orange LED end glowing in the darkness. "Even if I could get a warrant to look at Daggett's books, I wouldn't know what the fuck to look for." She sighed out a cloud of water vapor. "City Hall aren't interested, not with the election coming up in a couple of days, I'll tell you that."
Dinah took a deep breath and sighed it out, racking her brains for a solution, an avenue to more information.
"I'll look into it," she announced grimly.
"I was hoping you'd say that, kid," Montoya smirked.
Dinah almost smiled, but covered it up by clearing her throat, shifting back into the practiced seriousness she'd adopted from Bruce when speaking to people as Black Canary.
"Who was your source?" she hissed.
"Ah c'mon, I gotta protect my sources from Black Canary," Montoya chuckled, then shrugged helplessly. "Vicki Vale. She's looking into Daggett and put the pieces together on our three disappeared public servants."
"Vicki Vale?" Dinah used her real voice by accident.
Montoya noticed, her eyebrows raising.
"Yeah," she said cautiously. "You know she dates Bruce Wayne? Damn shame that, she's fucking cute."
Dinah was trying to plot a connection between Vicki investigating Daggett and Vicki being manipulated by Harley, but Montoya's observation that Vicki was 'fucking cute' managed to slice right through that train of thought.
Dinah hadn't realized Montoya was gay, and she suddenly felt weirdly distracted by the revelation that she was standing across from someone who was like her.
She had questions.
But Dinah shook those questions and feelings off. Now was not the time for distractions. Now was the time to find out what Harley was planning and save lives.
"I'll look into Daggett," she said, not bothering to disguise her voice this time.
Dinah's voice wasn't internationally recognized as that of a billionaire playboy.
Why bother to hide who she was.
About six months ago, Vicki swapped out her ten-a-day Lucky Strike habit for a raspberry-flavored Juul. But after the week she'd just had, she was back to Luckies, smoking them out her office window as she stared at the little figures moving down the street below, trying to understand how she'd gotten to this place.
Almost as soon as the Riddler—Ed, as he'd cheerfully introduced himself—left her office, Vicki called Jonny Frost to get his take on the situation. He was calm, collected, and made Vicki feel like she was speaking to the only sane adult available considering the other flamboyant characters involved in this conspiracy.
Because that's what it was, no matter how you sliced it. There was a conspiracy to influence the very fabric of Gotham society, and somehow Vicki had become part of the push back against it.
Frost encouraged her to sit down, have a cigarette, and tell him everything, which she did. For reasons she wasn't currently inclined to examine, Vicki trusted Frost, and together they came up with a halfway decent excuse to give Bruce. Vicki needed to figure out who to speak to at Wayne to get some answers about what kind of damage this Anarky person could do if he were unleashed.
Lying to Bruce felt awful, but Vicki was too far down the rabbit hole to look back now. With some hindsight, maybe she should have warned Bruce about what was happening. Instead, she'd chosen to sneak around like the sleazy tabloid journalist she was constantly trying to prove she wasn't. Not just to protect Bruce, and not just because Harley compelled her to, but because Vicki wanted to see Sionis, Hill and Daggett taken down.
Bruce asked Vicki to come over for dinner, but she declined, saying she had too much work to do. He accepted this with a sympathetic sad face emoji and sent her Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, personal cell phone number. As the former director of Wayne's research and development department, Lucius was the best person to speak to about IT. And he was all too happy to make himself available the following morning for a meeting.
Not long after that, Vicki got a text from Ed.
Miss Vale! 10.30 PM, the alley behind Butch's Deli on Orchard and 73rd. Kisses!
"Fuck," Vicki hissed, chewing her bottom lip. She had expected the park bench again, not a back alley Downtown. That was like asking to be murdered.
And for reasons Vicki could not explain, the only thing that made her feel safe about it was the knowledge that Harley would be there.
She decided to walk the fifty-three blocks from Midtown to the lower echelons of Downtown Gotham, which took about an hour. Over that walk, she smoked seven Lucky Strikes in rapid succession, leaving her feeling sick and shaky from an excess of nicotine. When she reached the deli, she was ten minutes early, so she stepped inside and ordered a sandwich, choosing something at random off the deli's sticky laminated menu. Then she sat at the counter, trying to eat despite nicotine-induced nausea.
Obviously, it was too much to ask for Harley to be on time, leaving Vicki with little else to do but pace up and down the slowly darkening alley, which was lined with sweating garbage bags that looked and smelled like they'd been collecting for weeks.
Even though she knew it would make her feel worse, she lit another cigarette, the taste comforting on her tongue despite her pulse throbbing in her ears, which was decidedly not only due to her relentless smoking.
Then finally, a gray Toyota Corolla looking like it could have done with a trip through a car wash pulled into the alley. Vicki wrapped an arm around herself defensively and took a long drag off her cigarette, rocking from one foot to the other as Harley climbed out of the car.
Harley looked like shit. She was pale with dark circles under her eyes, her platinum hair tied in a fat, messy knot on top of her head, and though it had been less than a week since she'd last seen her, Vicki thought Harley looked like she'd lost weight, her cheekbones sharper and eyes bigger.
She was also wearing a bubblegum-pink dress with a short, full skirt and a pair of slouchy white boots, both of which felt overly attention-seeking and contributed to Vicki's sense of unease.
"Hey," Harley greeted her distractedly, her eyes darting up and down the alley as the Toyota slowly backed out and pulled onto the street. She came to a stop in front of Vicki and looked her over. "God, you look terrible," she observed, without sympathy.
"Thanks," Vicki said miserably. "I like your dress."
"Mm," Harley made a face, looking up and down the alley again, more paranoid than Vicki had ever seen her. "Ed picked it out and he has very… big taste."
"You mean the Riddler?" Vicki demanded, taking another drag off her cigarette, glad she had it even if it made her feel worse. "What the hell is going on, Harley? Why did you send the Riddler to my office?"
Harley sighed, closing her eyes like she was trying to center herself.
"Look, I know he's a lot," she admitted. "He's driving me fucking crazy right now. But I'm running a little low on resources, and like him or not, Ed is good to have on our team."
"This is insane," Vicki shook her head.
"I know," Harley agreed, catching Vicki's eye. "You're doing a really good job, Vicki."
"A good job?" Vicki laughed incredulously.
"Yes," Harley insisted, taking a step closer. She searched Vicki's face for a moment, her blue eyes intense. "I know you're… out of your depth," she said cautiously. "But you have to do this."
Vicki knew Harley was telling her what she thought she needed to hear, and in truth, she did want to hear it. But as she watched Harley watch her, she felt a little sick realizing Harley was examining her like something foreign she didn't fully understand. Like she could only grasp what Vicki was going through intellectually but couldn't really empathize with her.
"Listen," Harley said, her voice low. "Things are about to get really dicey. I need to know I can trust you, Vicki."
"This doesn't already count as really dicey?" Vicki scoffed, trying to take another drag off her cigarette only to find it had burned down to the end. She tossed the butt away.
"This absolutely counts as dicey," Harley snapped, her face suddenly twisting like she was in pain. "Do you know what Roman said to me? What he wanted to do to me? What he did to his girlfriend?"
Vicki's eyes widened. "His girlfriend?"
"Her name was Samantha Pierce," Harley scowled, her face tense. "He renamed her Circe after he cut out her tongue and tortured her."
"Circe?" Vicki's mouth went dry as she remembered Hill's publicist, the weird blonde who didn't speak.
Because she'd had her tongue cut out.
Vicki ran her hand through her hair, horror sweeping through her, making her heart pound hard in her neck as she grappled with the shock of learning she'd been so close to something so… evil.
"J almost died," Harley continued, more emotionally. "Roman cut his wrists open so he would bleed to death in front of me. Vicki, he stopped breathing, and he almost died in my fucking arms."
Her voice started to wobble, and she closed her eyes, sucking down a shuddering breath as she struggled to pull herself together.
Vicki found herself speechless, stunned by what she was hearing, and unused to seeing this vulnerability on Harley. It looked misplaced, as misplaced as her pink dress, and Vicki wasn't sure how to react other than to ignore the impulse to offer comfort. Because that's what she wanted to do, standing there in a dark alley with a murderer who didn't deserve her sympathy, Vicki wanted to comfort Harley when she felt vulnerable.
"Listen," Harley pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, looking exhausted. "Ed told you about Anarky. I need you to find out if it's possible for a hacker, and I mean a really, really, really good hacker, to bankrupt a company like Wayne Enterprises via a cyber-attack or maybe a virus."
"I have a meeting with Lucius Fox tomorrow morning," Vicki said, woodenly. "Wayne's CEO. Bruce says he's the person to talk to."
"Good," Harley nodded, relieved. "Alright, here's what I need you to do." She met Vicki's eye again, and Vicki nodded for her to continue. "You have to plant an idea in Fox's head. You suggest that there's been," she fluttered her fingers and made a face. "Chatter, or whatever, about a cyber-attack. Give him just enough detail to take action, but not enough that he suspects anything."
"Plant an idea?" Vicki frowned. "You want me to manipulate him?"
"I want you to save Wayne Enterprises and cover your ass," Harley countered. "Why does it matter how you do it?"
There was a whole string of ethical arguments to contest Harley's point, but Vicki saw little point in indulging in them now.
"Alright," Vicki agreed numbly, finding Harley's eye again. She was watching her warily. "How are things about to get dicier?"
"I'm working the Riddler," Harley said flatly. "That should speak to the precarious nature of what we're doing."
"And what are you doing?" Vicki pressed.
"Taking down Roman," Harley snapped, her eyes blazing. "One proxy at a time until we get to him. But first, we need… practical things…"
"Guns," Vicki filled in quietly.
Harley shrugged and opened her mouth to say something else when there was a quiet rustling on the other side of the alley.
She spun around so fast Vicki nearly stumbled backward, her eyes widening as she watched Harley plant her feet like she was preparing to fight, her whole body tensing as she searched the dark alley for an enemy.
Alex Knox appeared, holding his hands up in surrender and wincing.
"Yikes, sorry, sorry," he apologized, playing the buffoon as he always did. "Didn't mean to surprise you, gals."
"Alex," Vicki hissed, dread flooding her. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"You gotta story in you, Vale," he smirked, holding up his camera, apparently completely unaware of the danger he'd just walked into. "I can smell it."
"Vicki," Harley said coldly, her stance suggesting Knox was dangerous instead of a bumbling idiot. "Do you know this person?"
"He's my photographer," Vicki said tightly, trying to convey to Alex with her eyes that he needed to run. Fast. "He doesn't know anything."
"Really," Harley rolled her shoulders back and took a few slow steps toward Knox, whose eyes widened as she drew closer. "He doesn't know anything."
"Uh, look, lady," Knox looked between Harley and Vicki, who widened her eyes, silently pleading with him to run. For god's sake, run. "Sounds like this may be personal, I just thought…"
"You just thought, what?" Harley growled, advancing on him. She was less than half his size, and she wasn't armed, but her presence alone was enough to make Knox back up a step. "You thought hey, I'll follow my female colleague down a dark alley. That sounds like a reasonable thing to do?" Harley demanded, her voice lowering as she crowded Knox up against the wall.
"Lady, I didn't mean anything by it," Knox insisted nervously.
"Really?" Harley snarled. "You didn't mean anything by it."
"Harley, don't," Vicki sputtered, staggering forward. "He doesn't know anything. Just let him go."
Knox's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and Vicki instantly realized her mistake.
"Harley?" Knox asked, his eyes rolling over Harley, from the floppy knot of greasy platinum hair to her wild blue eyes, to her pink dress and slouchy white boots. She was Harley Quinn and it was impossible to ignore once you realized it was her in front of you.
"Listen…" Knox said, holding his hands up. "I swear I don't—"
But Harley launched herself at him before he could say anything else. She pulled what looked like a filleting knife out from the hem of her dress and held it against Knox's throat.
"No! Nononono!" Vicki chanted, racing across the alley.
But she was too late. Harley slit Knox's throat in one sharp movement, the tendons in her arm sticking out with the effort.
Vicki staggered to a stop, unable to find her voice to scream or cry or shout for help. She could only stare helplessly as Harley released Knox and let him slide down the wall into a pile of garbage bags. He was gurgling and paling fast, his eyes terrified as blood gushed red and wet down his chest, soaking his shirt as the life slipped out of him impossibly quickly.
Harley knelt beside Knox and used the tail of his plaid shirt to wipe his blood off her hands and the knife. The gurgling slowly stopped, and she rocked her head from side to side before rising back to her feet, turning to face Vicki.
Vicki had never seen Harley look so calm, and she half expected her to pretend nothing had happened. It seemed so easy for her. Like she'd done nothing more egregious than throw recycling in a trash can.
"You didn't have to kill him," Vicki said breathlessly, staring at Harley so she wouldn't have to look at Knox's body.
"Yes, I did," Harley countered calmly, walking up to Vicki and laying her hands on her shoulders, giving her a comforting squeeze.
It was the first time Harley had ever touched her. Vicki expected herself to recoil but feeling Harley's hands through her blouse, squeezing her to ground her, to remind her she was still alive, it made Vicki feel… safe.
"He saw you talking to me, and he would have told the police," Harley continued, her voice low and soothing as she rubbed Vicki's arms. She met Vicki's eye, drawing her in so all she saw was an endless sea of glacial blue. "Your life would be over if anyone found we're friends. That we work together."
Vicki stared at Harley, torn between being horrified by what she was saying and accepting what she was saying was true. The latter inspired a placid numbness that allowed Vicki to ignore everything happening around her, which felt far more preferable.
"I saved you, Vicki," Harley added, offering her a small smile. "And I'm going to save Bruce too."
Then she took a step closer and wrapped her arms around Vicki, pulling her in for a hug.
"It'll be okay," Harley promised her.
Completely at a loss for what to do, Vicki leaned into the hug, letting Harley rub her back. She felt lost and confused, so she accepted the gesture of comfort, and she slowly lowered her face to Harley's bare shoulder, her eyes trained on a bruise that looked like a hickey there.
Her skin smelled sweet and a little musky, almost… rotten.
Just like all the best perfumes, Vicki thought numbly.
Hugs, and all other gestures of comfort, were not what you might call Harley Quinn's forte. But when she turned around to find Vicki looking like she was about to vomit or implode, she knew something had to be done if Vicki was going to play her part and play it well. That meant… hugging.
As Harley awkwardly patted Vicki's back, pretending she knew what she was doing, Ed pulled Lee's dusty old Corolla into the alley again, coming to a screeching halt. Harley pulled away from Vicki, forcing her to look her in the eye.
"I'm going to take you home, but we've got to meet someone first," Harley explained with a tight smile.
Vicki nodded weakly, and Harley looped an arm around her shoulders, leading her over to the Corolla and pulling the back door open before guiding Vicki inside.
The Joker was slouched on the other side of the backseat, his eyebrows raising when Vicki slid into the middle seat, followed by Harley. She shot him a warning look that he countered with a bewildered shrug while Vicki slumped between them, her shoulders hunched and her eyes on the center console.
"Ooh, bringing along a stowaway?" Ed crooned, craning his head around to look at them from the driver's seat.
"Shut up and drive," Harley snapped, putting her arm around Vicki again. "Have you got a cigarette for her?" she asked the Joker
"Uh," he squinted at Harley and then at Vicki, then muttered something to himself and snagged a pack of Marlboro Reds from his suit jacket, pulling one out with his teeth before he offered them to Vicki.
"So, Vicki, how's things?" Ed sang cheerfully, smiling at them in the rearview mirror as he pulled the hatchback out of the alley.
"Vicki's not in the mood to chat," Harley said sourly, watching the Joker offer Vicki a light.
Then, to everyone's surprise, Vicki turned and addressed the Joker directly.
"Do you have any whiskey?" she asked him, exhaling a stream of smoke out of the corner of her mouth. "You seem like the kind of guy who would carry a flask," she added flatly.
The Joker narrowed his eyes at her curiously, accurately reading the strain in her face.
"Uh, not on me," he flashed her one of his more charming, rakish smirks, much to Harley's relief. "But that don't sound like a bad idea to me, pussy cat."
So they stopped at a bodega, and Harley hopped out to buy a small bottle of Jim Beam, hoping it would keep Vicki calm until she could get her home. Then they drove the five blocks to Ed's diner, each of them taking swigs from the small bottle for courage or for nerves or just because it was there in Ed and the Joker's cases.
The small parking lot out front of Ed's Diner was blessedly empty when their bizarre group climbed out of the dusty little hatchback. Vicki drained what remained of the Jim Beam - there wasn't much left - and tucked the empty bottle in her bag before turning to Harley.
"Who are we meeting?" she asked, looking subdued or even resigned, which was much better than like she was going to vomit.
Progress, Harley thought.
"We dunno," the Joker shot Vicki a smirk over his shoulder as they headed for the chrome diner.
"You don't know?" Vicki frowned. "Couldn't this be a trap?"
"Yep," Harley said drily.
"Don't worry, Vicki, we'll protect you," Ed grinned as he pushed the diner's door open and held it for them. "We've got about eight kitchen knives between the three of us."
The Joker chuckled throatily as he stepped into the diner with Harley on his heels and Vicki trailing after her, while Ed brought up the rear. They certainly made a strange-looking group for a place that usually catered to working-class men of the manual laboring variety. Harley glanced down at the pink dress Ed bought her, and then at the Joker in front of her, his navy-blue pinstripes outrageous under the fluorescent lights even if it was tame compared to his trademark violet.
She looked over her shoulder at Ed and Vicki—Vicki pale and a little rumpled in her work clothes, Ed sleek, stylish, and smug as hell, his strawberry blonde hair coiffed in his usual rockabilly style thanks to a generous shellacking of old hair products of Lee's.
Harley sighed and tried to focus on what was in front of her. All they knew was Frost told Ed he had someone for them to meet. That could mean anything, but they were running low on options. And it was true that they'd raided the knife block in Lee's kitchen and were carrying eight blades between them just in case things went to hell. They didn't have access to any other kind of weapons, and the only money they had was what they'd scrounged off Lee without robbing her blind.
Not ideal.
But then Harley spotted Frost waiting for them beside a booth at the back of the diner, and her eyes widened when she saw who was waiting in the booth with him.
Alexandra Kosov.
She was a tall, imposing woman with steely grey eyes and short blonde hair tied back in two stubby french braids, her face composed in a perpetual scowl. She was already glowering at Harley across the restaurant, her eyes narrowed with pure loathing, and not without a good reason. Harley killed Alexandra's father the previous autumn when she smashed his head in with a brick.
Apparently, it took him three days to die.
These days, Alexandra Kosov ran the entirety of the Eastside. She controlled all of the muscle in Gotham and at least half of the arms dealers. She was a close associate of Black Mask, quite possibly a member of the False Face Society, and she was an anarchist. If Frost told her who Roman really was, it was completely plausible that she was there to flip on him.
The Joker smirked at Harley over his shoulder, obviously thinking the same thing, and Harley had to smother a grin of her own, offering him a cheeky wink instead.
Things were about to get very interesting.
"Boss, doc," Frost nodded respectfully at each of them and stepped aside so they could climb into the booth. "Ed," he added, looking unimpressed. "How ya doing, Vicki?" he continued, more kindly.
"Frost, I think Vicki could use a coffee or some pie," Harley said, shooting him a loaded look, and he nodded.
"C'mon Vicki, they got a great peach cobbler here," he rumbled, guiding Vicki away as Harley slid into the booth beside the Joker, and then Ed squeezed in beside her, wiggling close and flashing her a grin when she shot him a dirty look.
"Alexandra Kosov," the Joker purred, planting his elbows on the chrome tabletop and leaning forward, looking wolfishly pleased. "What a charming surprise."
Alexandra glared at each of them in turn, her gray eyes lingering on Harley.
"So," she said in lightly accented English, a product of being raised around her father's Ukrainian thugs. "That's what you look like without all that shit on your face," she sneered.
Harley and the Joker exchanged an amused look.
"Edward," Alexandra continued, her lip curling as she examined Ed. "Or should I say… Riddler."
"Oh, I'd love it if you would," Ed gushed happily, folding forward. "Don't be mad," he begged, feigning a pout that made her sneer again.
"Let's cut the shit," Harley suggested, smiling good-naturedly. "I take it Frost filled you in on who Roman is and all of his…"
"Bullshit," the Joker suggested drolly.
"His evil plans," Harley amended, raising an eyebrow at Alexandra. "So… what are you going to do about it?"
Alexandra ran her tongue over her teeth, considering her words carefully.
"You must feel kinda silly, huh?" Ed jumped in cheerfully, planting his chin in his palm. "Harley told us about the cloaks and masks." He cringed, ignoring Alexandra's scowl. "Talk about a fashion disaster."
"Ed's not wrong," Harley pointed out. "How did Roman convince you to join his cult?"
"Things have been good for my people since Black Mask appeared," Alexandra snapped, obviously not wanting to get into the details of her cult-joining. "But I have had… concerns."
"But not about the cloaks, huh?" Ed scrunched up his nose.
"And now that you know who he really is?" Harley asked, ignoring Ed as she focused on Alexandra. "A capitalist scumbag who wants Hamilton Hill to be mayor?"
Roman Sionis wasn't just a capitalist scumbag. That was perhaps his least revolting quality. He was an entitled psychopath, a misogynistic narcissist, a demagogue, a master manipulator. And after learning what he'd done to Circe—to Samantha, he was a rapist in Harley's book too.
She licked her lips, her throat getting thick with real anger.
"You know he had a fiance named Samantha," she said, her cheeks getting hot. "He tortured her so she would be obedient. He cut her tongue out so she couldn't speak, and he tortured her sisters to death in front of her. Then he killed her when he decided he wanted me instead of her, and he was planning on doing the same thing to me. To make me obedient. To make me submit."
Alexandra's nostrils flared, her steely eyes narrowing. Maybe on Samantha's behalf as a fellow woman. Or maybe she was imagining having that done to herself or someone she cared about. Or maybe she just thought it was fucking despicable.
"I propose we make a deal," Alexandra said after a stretch of silence. "I will help you take Sionis down. We work together on this. But after." She shook her head, glaring at Harley again. "After, things are just the same."
"Aww, now that's too bad," the Joker purred, lifting an eyebrow at Alexandra. "Here I was hopin' we could be pals."
"If you think I will forget—" Alexandra started to launch into a spiel about her father, but Harley held her hands up first.
"We know, we know, just stop," she rolled her eyes. "That is more than fine with us. We work together now. We try to kill each other once Roman's dead. Deal?"
Alexandra growled something under her breath, but eventually, she nodded. "Deal."
"How exciting," Ed giggled, wiggling his shoulders. "Now what happens?"
"We take out the rest of the False Face Society," Harley announced, catching Alexandra's eye. "Do you know who the other three are?"
"Four," she corrected moodily. "The Scarecrow has joined our ranks."
"I knew it," Ed huffed, sounding emotional, making the rest of the table roll their eyes.
"That's to Roman's detriment," Harley said."Jonathan is brilliant in a lab, but in the real world, he's a godawful criminal."
"Mm," Alexandra seemed to agree. "I know Miss Lucy is one of the four, but I do not know the other two."
"Hill and Daggett," the Joker growled.
"So it's you, Lucy, Hill, Daggett, and now Crane," Harley said, still eyeing Alexandra curiously.
"It's the election tomorrow night," Ed pointed out with a smirk. "What better way to take out Hill than on stage just after he's sworn in as mayor?"
The Joker hummed his enthusiastic agreement for this idea.
"Ooh, and what about Lucy?" Ed's eyes widened. "Are you gonna kill her?"
"Lucy's just a pawn," Harley said thoughtfully, smiling as an idea came to her. "We just need to give her some motivation to split from Roman."
"We're definitely killing Alberto," the Joker announced drily.
"Definitely," Harley agreed, thinking about Marty.
"Crane'll take care of himself," the Joker predicted, rolling his eyes. "Once Black Mask's dead the Batman'll grab him."
"And we're dealing with Daggett separately," Harley added, glancing at Vicki where she and Frost were sitting at the bar, sharing a slice of pie.
"Roman stole their hacker," Ed explained to Alexandra, prompting Harley to glare at him for revealing this piece of information. "What?" he whined. "She's on our team. She should know about Anarky."
"Anarky?" Alexandra asked mildly.
"It's an insignificant detail," Harley said, still glaring at Ed, who pretended not to notice though he looked suitably chastised. "We think Roman may use a hacker to take down Wayne Enterprises. We're looking into it tomorrow."
"Take down Wayne Enterprises?" Alexandra looked impressed.
"It would all become part of Daggett Industries," Ed explained cheerfully. "So rich people are all still rich, some rich people just get richer and others less rich and—."
"Do what you have to to take out Daggett," Alexandra held up a hand to stop Ed talking. "I will provide you with men and weapons and anything else you require."
Harley nearly sighed in relief, suddenly feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The stress of being in the dark was lightning, and they were clawing their way back to the surface. Freedom was in sight.
"Frost will go with you to round up some guys," Harley said, laying her hand on the Joker's leg under the table, just because she wanted to touch him. "Let's start with Lucy tomorrow night. Maybe Hill too, depending on what we can pull together."
The Joker grabbed her wrist and moved her hand from his thigh to his crotch, making Harley snort out a laugh.
"Fine," Alexandra agreed, eyeing Harley warily. Then she reached into her lime green tracksuit jacket and pulled out an iPhone. "I have something for you," she said stiffly, swiping the phone screen twice before she pushed it across the table. "Someone is looking for you."
Harley's eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"A lot of people are looking for me," she pointed out, tentatively picking up the phone.
"True," Alexandra replied wryly, catching Harley's eye. "But I sense this may be a person you would like to find too."
Harley looked down at the phone screen and laughed out loud at what she saw there.
"Holy shit," she grinned.
Vicki Vale was not an anxious person. In fact, not only did she handle pressure better than most, but she typically thrived under it. She took failure and praise in stride, her nose for investigative journalism guiding her through many high-stress, high-stakes situations, sometimes coming out unscathed, sometimes not, but never deterred.
Vicki tried to track a path backward over the past weeks, trying to understand how she was in this position. But it only served to confuse her more, the job of untangling where her motivations ended and Harley's began impossible.
She had agreed to help Harley to protect Bruce. She had agreed to work with her to take down Roman Sionis because for once, Harley was on the right side of a fight…
But was that even possible? Could Harley Quinn ever be on the right side?
Maybe there was no right side. There was only Harley's side and whoever was against her.
If that was the case, why did Vicki feel so comfortable existing on her side?
Harley didn't see good and bad, right and wrong, and she made it seem so easy to live that way. It was a luxury not to care, not to be burdened with morality or empathy, or respect for human life.
That wasn't the reality Vicki lived in, but she was in too deep to back out now. Vicki had made choices she couldn't take back.
After the meeting at the diner—which she could happily say she knew nothing about—she'd gotten a ride home with Frost, unable to handle another car ride with a group of terrorists acting as if they were normal people. Harley and Ed's bickering made her nerves stand on end, and the Joker's very presence was like having a gun pointed at her head, never knowing when the trigger may or may not be pulled.
Once home, alone, it finally hit Vicki that Knox was dead, and he would not be coming back. He'd never bumble into her office uninvited again, leaving a trail of doughnut crumbs in his wake. He was just gone.
Grief set in, but not anger at Harley for killing him, and not guilt over being the reason Knox stumbled into Harley Quinn's path in the first place. There was just sadness balanced with a placid numbness that blocked everything else out. Numbness, she attributed to Harley's influence. Numbness Vicki simultaneously craved and hated herself for.
Vicki knew she should have called the police, and she got as far as dialing 9 and 1 before she accepted what that would entail. It would entail giving a statement explaining everything that had happened, including her relationship with Harley. That meant incriminating herself, which wouldn't bring back Knox. It would only hurt Vicki.
And here was the most disturbing twist. Harley was now the only person she could trust.
Harley, who murdered Knox right in front of her.
Harley, who killed twenty people at City Hall just a week earlier.
Harley, who was complicated, capable of vulnerability, and needed help.
Harley, who seemed to think she needed Vicki.
Vicki took a Xanax and went to bed, sleeping through her alarm the next morning so she had to rush to get ready for her meeting with Lucius Fox. She tied her greasy hair into a sloppy ponytail and skipped breakfast in favor of coffee and cigarettes, and when she hopped on the metro to Midtown, she felt nowhere near mentally prepared to interview Fox, let alone plant an idea like Harley wanted her to.
But if Vicki could help destroy Roman and protect Bruce in the process, she could just about justify her actions, and possibly Knox's death too. She needed results.
Halfway to Midtown, she got a text from Harley: How are you feeling? On your way?
Vicki replied immediately. Yes. Nervous and tired.
Put your head between your knees, close your eyes, take deep breaths. Drink water.
Vicki looked up and down the train carriage, which wasn't overly populated at 11 AM, just after the morning commute. She put her head between her knees, closed her eyes, and took deep breaths, only looking up when another text from Harley came through, and then another and another.
They were instructions.
Your investigation into Daggett led to unexpected places.
Your sources say a group of anarchist hackers have plans to bankrupt Wayne Enterprises.
Can Wayne stop it if they get ahead of the hackers?
Could the hackers be working for Daggett?
Juggling this investigation and your normal job is exhausting. You really need a vacation. But please don't tell Bruce - you wouldn't want him to think you're dropping hints!
You can do this - I believe in you, Vicki.
Vicki hung her head between her knees again, taking deep breaths until she reached Wayne Tower, the main hub for Gotham's metro system.
She was given a visitor's pass at reception, and took the elevator to the forty-third floor, where Fox's assistant greeted her. She accepted the offer of a glass of water, drinking all of it, and after a brief wait, she was escorted into Fox's office.
Vicki forced a smile as she shook Fox's hand. They exchanged pleasantries and took their seats and eventually got down to the business at hand.
"I'm sure Bruce told you, I've been looking into some anomalies at Daggett Industries," Vicki explained while Fox listened patiently. "Needless to say, the investigation has led me to unexpected places."
Lucius walked Vicki Vale to the elevator himself, offering her another glass of water and making sure she drank all of it before bidding her farewell. She looked exhausted and nervous, almost like she was about to be sick.
Lucius did not for a moment believe it was due to her heavy workload. She was exhibiting the behavior of someone guilty of something.
He wasn't a suspicious man, but he wasn't a stupid man either.
So Lucius made two calls once he returned to his office, the door closed. First, to Wayne Enterprises' IT department to ramp up cybersecurity, and then to Bruce.
He needed to know what kind of questions his girlfriend was asking.
Afternoon was approaching, but neither Harley nor the Joker made a move to get out of bed, taking the opportunity to catch up on sleep while they had it—sleep would be in short supply as events forthcoming started to play out, beginning with the bloodbath they intended to turn Hill's election party into.
The Joker was half-dozing, half turning over a creative idea for killing Roman, vaguely aware of Harley shifting around on the bed, obviously awake if she wasn't snoring her head off when her hand landed low on his stomach. It lingered there for a moment, then slid down his hip to his thigh, and by the time the Joker opened one eye to look at her, he was rock hard, and she was stroking him slowly. She offered him a crooked smile when she was sure he was looking, then lowered her mouth to lick his cock, her tongue slow and wet as it slid his length, her eyes trained on his face.
He released a low, happy growl, prompting her to pull back and press her finger to her lips, inclining her head back at the door to suggest they should be quiet. Then she smiled again and bent over him, wrapping her lips around his cockhead, her silky tongue dancing over the tip.
The Joker's head fell back as he sighed roughly, the heat of her mouth and the roll of her tongue unbearably good. He knew she was trying to butter him up for what was happening later, and that was a little insulting, but there wasn't going to be much time for anything like this once events forthcoming kicked off.
She hummed happily as she took more of him into her mouth, prompting him to shift up on his elbows so he could watch. She met his eye as the circle of her lips moved up and down his length, her tongue stroking the back of his shaft as she drew him in and out of her mouth slowly. And when he reached down to push her hair off her face, she closed her eyes and leaned into his palm, sucking his dick lazily, prettily.
"C'mere," he demanded, his voice low and raspy. He got a handful of her hair to yank her up to him, and she sent him a dirty look that made him laugh as she settled in to straddle his hips.
Harley positioned herself over him, and a little shiver of anticipation rolled up the Joker's spine as she angled his cock between her legs. There was a moment where they both held their breath, and then she was slowly sinking down, drawing him inside her, her eyes closing as her lips parted in a quiet sigh.
She went unbearably slow, rolling her hips in lazy circles before she'd grind against him, luxuriating in having his cock deep inside her. He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, his fingers splaying out over her hip as he let his thumb graze over her clit. He watched her take a deep breath and hold it as her head fell back, and he realized she was struggling to be quiet so the annoying people wouldn't hear them.
Oh, that seemed like a fun game.
The Joker sat up quickly, his hands shifting to her waist, pulling her down on him harder as he thrust up into her, watching her bite her bottom lip as he did it a second and then a third time, making a needy sound catch in her throat. He smirked and flipped her onto her back, wanting to see how far he could push her. Just how badly did she not want Ed and Lee to hear her.
She huffed unhappily when he pulled out of her, making him chuckle as he slipped a hand between her legs, sinking his middle finger inside her as his thumb found her clit. He moved the two digits in time together, finding a lazy pattern that made her head roll back on the pillow, her face slack with pleasure as he lowered his mouth to her chest, pulling one pink nipple between his lips until she mewled softly. Her pussy tightened around his finger and he shifted to her other breast, using his tongue and his teeth to tease the sensitive little bud into a hardened peak.
"Shit," she whispered when he slid a second finger inside her, his mouth drifting down the line of her ribcage, and then over the knotted scar beneath it before he shifted lower, moving his fingers just a fraction faster as he focused his mouth on the gentle little swoop where her hip bone curved up at the side of her abdomen. "Oh," she sighed throatily, rocking against his hand, trying to find more friction.
The Joker glanced up at her, his hand stilling.
"Har-ley," he sang her name softly, waiting for her eyes to flutter open. "Are you going to be a very good girl and stay quiet?" He asked her slyly.
She licked her lips, hesitating because she didn't want to be a 'good girl' in any sense of the word, and she always got hilariously annoyed at him when he taunted her with that particular epithet in bed. Especially in light of her recent appreciation of spankings, he suspected. But even if the Joker was taunting her with the smuggest possible look on his face, her options were limited to submitting and agreeing, or being stubborn and left high and dry.
As per usual, she found a third route.
"I can try," she said, her eyelashes heavy. "But I'm not promising anything."
He laughed quietly, finding this to be a good enough answer, and dove forward to run his tongue over her, feeling quite greedy himself as he sucked on her clit and lapped up her arousal. She released a shaky breath, her hands threading into his hair to pull it tight as she made a series of soft, strangled sounds. When he dipped his tongue inside her, she pulled his hair so hard his scalp stung, and when he did it a second time, a loud moan slipped past her lips.
He pulled away to look at her, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.
In truth, the Joker did not want anyone to hear her. All the fantastic little sounds she was capable of making, they were for him.
"Don't stop," she panted, her fingers still twined in his hair, tugging on it impatiently as he rubbed his nose against that little swoop at her hip, humming thoughtfully.
"I dunno," he drawled, his voice raspy as he caught her eye, a sneaky idea coming to him. "I don't think you deserve it if you can't be good."
She scoffed impatiently but the Joker was already reaching over the side of the bed, grabbing her discarded underwear off the floor. He clambered on top of her, grabbing a handful of her hair, and yanking her head back. She got one soft gasp out before he shoved her panties in her mouth, effectively gagging her and making her eyes widen in surprise.
The Joker sat back on his heels to see how she would react, a smile growing on his lips when she fell back on the bed, and after a thoughtful moment, wagged two fingers at him coyly, gesturing for him to come closer. And even though she was supposed to be the one submitting to being gagged, the Joker obediently followed her directive, pitching forward over her as she spread her legs wider for him.
"Always so greedy," he purred, stroking her with two long fingers.
She took a deep breath before looking up at him with big, lusty eyes, and even though she couldn't speak, there was little doubt about what she wanted. The Joker didn't consider himself particularly magnanimous, but when she looked at him like that he found it difficult not to give her exactly what she wanted, especially when all she wanted was him.
She moaned when his cock squeezed inside her, the makeshift gag quieting the sound as she clawed at his back, her legs curling around his waist. The Joker braced one arm beside her head so he could watch her face while he fucked her, slow and steady, but hard enough to make her gasp with each rough snap of his hips.
He grabbed one of her legs behind the knee where it was wrapped around him, yanking it free and pressing it into the bed so her legs were spread wider and could fuck her deeper. She whimpered and arched beneath him, her pussy getting wetter for him, making him exhale roughly as he moved inside her. His free hand trailed over her, palming her breasts and squeezing her waist, teasing her clit until she started to tremble, at which point he'd pull his hand away, not ready to let her find relief quite yet.
If you'd asked the Joker how he felt about morning sex two years earlier, or even a year earlier, he might have squinted at you like you were insane. It was a foreign idea to him. But then he learned that morning was more of a concept, and that lazy sex with a sleepy, relaxed, bendy Harley was intensely satisfying when you were in the mood for it.
They groped one another almost desperately as their hips rocked together, pulling hair and squeezing flesh, leaving marks on each other's bodies and breathing each other in. The Joker's hand snuck between them again, searching out her clit. She groaned throatily when he rolled the little nub between his fingertips, her nails digging into his shoulder blades, her hips canted up eagerly to take him deeper.
This time he didn't stop when she started to writhe beneath him, mewling weakly as she began to come apart. She moaned something like "Oh God," that got muffled by her panties as she arched up off the bed, releasing more muted cries of pleasure and raking her nails up his sides, breaking the skin.
The Joker growled quietly when he felt her come, holding his own climax at bay even as her body fluttered around him, making it obscenely tempting to cum. He shifted so he was sitting back on his heels instead of hovering over her, hauling her leg up between them so her ankle was against his shoulder as he started to fuck her hard and fast. He ignored the squeaking bed as he rubbed her clit in time with his jerking hips, determined to make her come a second time. With what they had to deal with later that day, he wanted her to remember this.
She was panting weakly through her nose, keening quietly as his hips slammed into hers, her body over-stimulated. But Harley was not some shy little thing who shrank away from pain or discomfort. She embraced it lustily, bucking against him, her eyes begging him to fuck her harder as she chased a second release.
"C'mon, Harl," he growled, breathless. "Cum for me like a good girl."
She released a high pitched whine and climaxed again, her pussy spasming around him, and the Joker didn't bother to hold back when his own release washed over him. He pitched forward as he spilled inside her, yanking on her hair hard and snarling into her neck as she continued to gasp and writhe with pleasure beneath him, lost to sensation. Lost to him.
They took a minute to lay there and catch their breath, and then the Joker tugged Harley's panties out of her mouth for her. She licked her lips a few times, making a funny, uncertain face that made him chuckle.
"You were about this close," she croaked, holding up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "From telling me to call you daddy." Her arm flopped back down on the bed bonelessly.
"I am now," the Joker smirked, making her snort drily. She knew better by now than to tell him not to do something because then he would be almost certain to do it.
"Mmhm," she chuckled sleepily. "What time is it?"
Oh. That.
The Joker grumbled unhappily and fell on his side beside her.
"Stop being such a baby," she laughed, swatting him on the chest before she rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. "You need to shave. You're all scratchy," she added over her shoulder, leaving the door open.
The Joker ran his tongue over the scar splitting his bottom lip, the morning-afternoon sex making him notably less unhappy than he would normally be about the situation. He contemplated growing a beard just to piss her off but wrote that idea off. Then he contemplated refusing her sex of any kind unless she called him 'Daddy,' but wrote that one off too. She'd figure out a way around it like she always did.
He sighed and loped into the bathroom where Harley was already in the shower, obviously in a fucking fantastic mood because of what the day had in store for them.
The Joker palmed his face, feeling the stubble that had come through since he'd hobbled in there and used Lee's safety razor a couple of days earlier—not exactly a close shave compared to the straight razor he preferred for the job. He let the sink run and set about scraping off stubble as best he could with the tools at hand, and he'd almost finished when Harley stepped out of the shower but left it running.
She lifted herself on her tiptoes so she could hook her chin over his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her wet body against his back.
The Joker caught her eye in the mirror, raising an eyebrow when he saw her sneaky smile.
"We still have fifteen minutes," she pointed out, one of her hands sliding down his abdomen.
The Joker tongued the scars inside his cheek, smirking at her in the mirror as she pulled on his earlobe with her teeth and rubbed her nose against his neck.
"And uh, what d'ya have in mind?" He asked her slyly, his dick getting hard again when she started to touch him.
She hummed against his neck, then pressed her lips against his ear.
"You didn't let me finish sucking your cock earlier," she murmured, making him chuckle.
"Stop tryin' to butter me up," he turned to look at her over his shoulder, and she widened her eyes innocently.
"I'll call you daddy if you want," she offered, making him snicker again.
There she went finding a way around that chance to get her all mad. Now he had to think of something sneakier to outmaneuver her when she wouldn't see it coming.
He pulled her hand away and turned around to face her.
"Fifteen minutes, huh?" He pushed her wet hair over her shoulder.
He waited for a beat while she looked up at him expectantly, then grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, spinning her around and shoving her down over the sink.
Harley sucked in a startled breath and caught herself on the edge of the sink, looking up at him in the mirror as he stood behind her. Her eyes were bright as he smoothed his hand over the curve of her ass, and she gasped loudly when he spanked her, her eyes wide like she was still surprised by how much she liked it.
He slipped his hand between her legs from behind, sliding a finger inside her without delay, and she exhaled shakily when he found that little sweet spot, almost immediately getting her soaking wet. Her head fell forward as she groaned indulgently, and he spanked her again, harder this time, the shower covering her breathless whine from any annoying people who might have been listening.
The Joker cocked his head to the side, watching her face curiously in the mirror as he pushed a second finger inside her, waiting a beat as she tensed in anticipation before he spanked her again in the same tender, reddened place. The sharp smack echoed around them as Harley cried out loudly, her body clamping down around his fingers.
She lifted her head to look at him, her pupils blown wide.
"Fuck me," she breathed, arching her back and pressing her ass back against him.
The urge to be contrary was there as it always was, but instead, the Joker gave her what she wanted. Again. She swore breathlessly when he pushed his cock inside her, her fingers flexing against the edge of the sink. He pulled her body back to meet his roughly, fucking her hard and fast, which seemed to be exactly what she was in the mood for if the sounds she was making while she clung to the sink were any indication.
He finished first, in part because Harley encouraged him to with some extraordinarily filthy and creative language. But she was on the precipice by then too, trembling and gasping, desperate to cum. He yanked her upright by her hair, squeezing her small, soft breasts as he rubbed her clit and met her eye in the mirror, realizing this was an excellent opportunity to get one up on her.
"You have a very naughty mouth," he purred in her ear, knowing it wasn't so much what he said but how he said it that turned her on. "Aren't you lucky that I'll fuck you like the greedy little slut you are when you beg for my cock."
She shrieked happily when she came, throwing her head back against his shoulder and bouncing on her toes while she chanted a breathless string of nonsense.
The Joker chuckled affectionately because it was just so honest and so much fun. When she started to calm down, she slumped against him, and he let her lean on him, watching her catch her breath.
Then she glared up at him weakly, and he widened his eyes innocently.
"What?" He asked, playing dumb like he hadn't just pulled the Greedy Slut card. But Harley just laughed and shook her head.
She smiled at him, rubbing her palm over the smooth side of his jaw before she raised on her tiptoes to lick one of his scars like the weirdo she was, then climbed back into the shower to wash off the second round of sex.
The Joker picked up the safety razor to finish shaving, his mind quickly turning to their conversation with Alexandra Kosov and what she had promised them the night before. And what they had learned after that.
He scowled unhappily and raked off the last line of stubble from his jaw.
They got dressed in the only clothes they had, the unsubtle ones Ed bought the day before, Harley checking her phone and chewing her bottom lip anxiously.
When they emerged from the bedroom, the Joker took up his usual spot by the window to smoke and glower at Ed, who was fawning over Lee, his new pet. It was obvious and ignited a competitive streak in him. Ed was a copycat first and foremost, something the Joker couldn't stand. Ed was also fucking crazy, which J had a great deal more patience for. But above all else, Ed was incredibly - incredibly - irritating, and that was a step too far in the Joker's book.
He wondered if Harley couldn't steal Lee away from Ed. That might be a nice way to wrap this all up.
Then there was a knock on the front door, and Harley rushed over to fling it open, beaming while Lee and Ed watched curiously.
The Joker sighed gruffly, his face souring as he lit a fresh cigarette.
Pamela Isley breezed through the front door, wearing blue denim overalls with a white camisole beneath, her feet outfitted in Birkenstocks, her red hair cropped to a blunt, practical bob. And she was dragging a huge suitcase like she was planning on staying for a while.
A/N: Pam's back!
Poor Vicki :(
A nice round of morning sex through the Joker's POV before we jump straight into events forthcoming next week!
We saw a little something new from Dinah this week… I wonder if that's background noise for you guys or if it actually stood out. I know this series has a LOT of content, but it was established in the Harlequin that Dinah is gay for the record. She's also very, very young. I have mini-essay about her sitting in my Tumblr drafts, but I kind of think you guys should just come to your own conclusions? I dunno.
Next: Pam makes herself at home and Harley finally gets to play some offense as events forthcoming kick-off.
Please, for the love of god, comment or review!