Theme: Glass Animals - 'It's All Incredibly Loud'
The Pantomime
24.
Harley kept her expression entirely blank as Roman's thugs manhandled Dinah over to a steel pole directly opposite her. Dinah struggled fitfully, huffing through her nose and fighting to get free, her mouth covered with a rectangle of duct tape. One of the thugs backhanded her to subdue her but she shook it off, bucking against them as they wrestled her arms behind the pole.
It was only then that Dinah noticed Harley, her eyes narrowing to hateful slits as her wrists were zip-tied behind her, making Harley's spine straighten, indignation racing through her.
Dinah had been divested of her tool belt, along with her gloves and other accessories. She had two cuts on her swollen cheek, including a fresh bleeding one from the thug who backhanded her. Then there was a massive gash on her forehead near her hairline, courtesy of the cast iron skillet that destroyed her cowl, revealing her identity to Harley.
Harley swallowed thickly. Pushing Dinah to the back of her mind in favor of survival was no longer an option, not now that they were in the same room, both captives of the same twisted psychopath. Not with Dinah wearing the Black Canary suit, the evidence of their earlier fight all over her face.
And she was glaring at Harley like she hated her.
Harley didn't understand. She didn't understand how all this time, it could be Dinah. Dinah, who was supposed to be off living her life somewhere, doing what she wanted. Roxy had been murdered, taken from Harley, but Dinah had escaped the hell they were all living in, choosing herself, just as Harley had been aching to do.
But her choice hadn't been to escape—she'd chosen to turn on Harley. She'd betrayed her.
"Aren't you happy?" Roman asked, offering Harley that soft smile of his. "I think a thank you is in order."
Harley watched Roman accept the Canary cowl off one of his henchmen, examining it with a critical eye. He fingered the eye holes, peered inside the helmet, ran his finger along its seams. Then looked over his shoulder at Dinah.
"An electric shock to deter anyone from learning your identity," he observed, smiling. "Impressive. Too bad it only carries one charge."
Dinah's eyes eased out of their steadfast glare, recognizing the threat in front of her wasn't what she'd been expecting.
What had she been expecting?
How had she known to come there?
Roman handed the cowl to one of his henchmen and sidled up to Dinah, eyeing her curiously. She pressed herself back against the pole, her eyes wary.
"I didn't expect you to be blonde," Roman admitted, reaching up to finger her hair.
Dinah flinched away but Roman grabbed her face, just as he'd done to Harley. He shoved her head back against the pole, forcing her to look him in the eye as he peeled the tape off her mouth.
Her bottom lip was split and bleeding, swollen up to twice its natural size from where Harley had punched her earlier in the night.
"Pretty, too," Roman continued mildly, discarding the tape. He cocked his head to the side. "What's your name?"
Dinah swallowed and glanced at Harley over Roman's shoulder, her brown eyes alert, determined, not afraid. Not yet, at least.
"Little bird," Roman sang softly, squeezing Dinah's face to get her attention. "I asked you a question."
Dinah glowered at him silently, her nostrils flaring.
"What..." Roman lifted his free hand to her forehead and pressed a finger to the gash there, making Dinah suck in a startled breath. "Is…" He pressed harder, and her eyes bulged. "Your… name?" He dug his fingernail into the cut, scratching along the length of it, making it bleed fresh.
Dinah started to tremble violently, her jaw working, fighting not to cry out.
Harley's heart began thumping wildly as she watched Roman work on Dinah, the need to intervene overwhelming. She picked at the zip tie binding her wrists frantically, scratching it mercilessly.
"Ann," Dinah croaked. "My name's Ann."
"Ann," Roman smiled, smoothing away a drop of blood rolling down Dinah's forehead. "I'm Roman."
He released her face and took a step back. His eyes drifted over her, examining her armor while Dinah stared back at him, visibly rattled.
"Why are you here, Ann?" Roman asked calmly.
Dinah licked her swollen lip, her eyes darting to Harley again.
Harley wanted to communicate something to her—she just didn't know what that something was.
"I have sources," Dinah said, her voice low. "I know you've been trying to recruit Harley Quinn. I know your men only drive BMWs, and Harley was taken in one. I know your father owned this factory, and it was a good bet this was where you took her."
"Clever girl," Roman observed, a little bitterly. "And how do you know all of that?"
"Gotham thugs love to gossip," Harley jumped in, improvising.
"Not my men," Roman pointed out coldly. "Where's your boss tonight, Ann? Will he be joining us?"
Dinah didn't say anything, and when Roman moved in closer, she reared back, her nostrils flaring.
Harley looked around the room as she continued picking the tab on the zip-tie, her fingers bloody from her torn off nail. She clocked the henchmen, and the Glocks stashed in holsters at their sides, their postures and how they held themselves. She observed Crane hanging back— coward— and she took note of the large viewing window to her right and the door behind her. She couldn't turn around, but she guessed a single door, propped open. Two men out in the hall were standing watch. Probably a mix of Lucky Hand thugs, Cosa Nostra, and Russians like the four in the room with them. There were probably others in the building, guarding the entrances and exits.
She started to make a plan.
"Ann," Roman said quietly. "You should know I prize obedience. If you answer my questions, things won't have to get…" He ran his thumb over Dinah's swollen bottom lip, pressing the cut where it was split. "Messy," he sneered.
"He's at the MCU," Dinah breathed, her eyes on Roman's hand as it moved to her shoulder. "They caught the Riddler. He knows where the Joker is."
"I see," Roman nodded, running his palm down Dinah's arm.
Harley scratched furiously at the zip-tie until her middle nail cracked, making her fingers slippery with blood. She moved onto her ring finger, her heart pounding.
"Who made this suit for you, Ann?" Roman asked, his hand still moving up and down Dinah's arm while she leaned away from him, her eyes closing. "This is military-grade technology," he observed. "And expensive."
He grabbed Dinah's face again, forcing her to look at him.
"Who is the Batman?" Roman demanded quietly.
Dinah blinked hard, her jaw tense as she stared back at him.
"I don't know," she lied.
Harley knew it was a lie, and Roman did too.
He sighed fitfully and released her to rake a hand through his black hair, thinking.
"Alright," he nodded, talking to himself. "We're running a little short on time but… the Batman's identity?" He flashed Harley a smirk. "That's worth the risk, don't you think?" He chuckled to himself. "Besides, Ed loves to talk, he'll keep him busy for a while."
He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out the black case he'd had the night of the fundraiser, making Harley's blood run cold.
"Let's start again, Ann." He pulled the scalpel from its case, Dinah's eyes growing wider as its blade glinted under the control room's dim lighting. "Where did this suit come from?"
"I don't know," Dinah lied, breathless, her eyes on the scalpel.
Roman smiled, his attention shifting to her shoulder. "So be it, little bird."
Harley watched, undeniably intrigued as Roman palmed Dinah's upper arm and shoulder, prodding and picking until he found what he was looking for. The scalpel slid beneath her suit easily, and he used the blade to pry off a large segment of the Canary armor, revealing Dinah's arm beneath, toned and pale, from her shoulder to just above her elbow.
Roman passed the piece of armor to a henchman, who squinted down it, bemused.
"Moving plates," Roman looked at Dinah. "That must make you more susceptible to knives and gunfire." He cocked his head to the side. "Who is the Batman, little bird?"
Dinah narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath, stealing herself for what she knew was coming next.
"Alright," Roman nodded, smiling, almost kindly. "You tell me when you're ready to stop, okay?"
Dinah released a shuddering breath when he ran his finger down her bicep, tracing a path there.
The nail of Harley's ring finger split, but she didn't stop, the need to stop Roman pooling in her chest like liquid lead.
Dinah bit her bottom lip when Roman cut her, a horrible whine getting stuck in her throat as he sliced a six-inch incision down her arm. Blood streamed from the wound, pooling in the armor at her elbow, but she didn't cry out, her lips pinching together stubbornly as she panted through her nose.
"Have you ever seen a deer skinned, Ann?" Roman asked, prodding the cut experimentally while Dinah squeezed her eyes shut and hissed through her teeth. "It's a remarkably similar process for human beings."
He laid the scalpel's blade against her arm again, at the top of the incision he'd made, watching Dinah's face carefully.
"Who is the Batman?" he asked calmly, his voice low.
Dinah started panting loudly, the anticipation of what was coming next making her panic.
Roman seemed to take that as a cue that she wasn't going to talk, and he pushed the blade beneath her skin, slowly drawing it down the length of her arm, slowly flaying her.
Dinah squeezed her eyes shut like she hoped to shut out the pain if she couldn't see it. Then her head fell back, crashing into the steel pole, a ragged scream ripping out of her throat as she cried out in agony.
Harley's heart was racing, adrenaline pounding through her body as she panted and clawed at the zip-tie tab.
She felt it SNAP.
The zip-tie fell away, her bloodied hands free.
"Stop!" Harley cried out, prompting Roman to freeze.
He rotated around slowly, eyeing Harley curiously while Dinah panted and heaved behind him, blood streaming down her arm as she leaned against the pole to stay on her feet.
"Something you'd like to say, Harley?" Roman frowned.
"She's mine," Harley snarled, keeping her arms behind her back.
His eyebrows rose, a look similar to the one he'd worn when she promised to hunt the Joker sneaking into his eyes.
"You want her to talk?" Harley spat. "Let me do it."
Part of her was being honest. Part of her wanted to hurt Dinah, make her squirm and suffer.
But Harley also wanted to save her.
Roman edged closer, eyeing Harley warily, undoubtedly intrigued.
"That's very tempting," he admitted. "But you don't seriously think I can trust you, do you?"
"Call it a favor," Harley suggested drily.
"How about a compromise," Roman chuckled, stopping in front of her. "You can have her after I'm done."
Harley looked over Roman's shoulder at Dinah. Her breathing was stabilizing as she pushed past the pain, recovering quickly. Good.
Harley needed her.
"Or maybe we bring her with us," Roman suggested, ducking down so they were eye level, smiling. "Then you can play with her whenever you want."
Harley caught Dinah's eye, her expression grim, determined.
Dinah's eyes widened, realizing what was happening. She nodded once to show she was ready.
"So, what do you say?" Roman was still smiling as Harley's eyes darted back to his, excitement racing through her body, making her toes point and flex in her boots.
"I think I'll pass," she sneered, then threw her head forward, viciously headbutting Roman.
He was too taken aback to stop her when she ripped the scalpel out of his hand and lurched forward, stabbing him in the gut. Roman released a loud cry of pain, and all hell broke loose—the henchmen leaped to action, drawing their guns and shouting.
Harley used her grip on the blade in Roman's belly to swing him around, using him for cover as she added a few more steps to her plan. She ripped the scalpel out of his body and shoved him to the floor, then threw herself into a summersault, ducking and rolling and landing on her knees at Dinah's feet.
Dinah held out her arms behind her, and Harley slashed the zip-tie binding her wrists, freeing her before she hopped to her feet.
Dinah swung her arms forward, her eyes sweeping the room, taking stock of henchmen as Harley did the same.
They exchanged a quick look, silently agreeing to divide and conquer as Roman's thugs closed in, forcing them back-to-back.
Dinah took on the goons behind her while Harley lunged at the first thug to come for her, stabbing him in the throat with the scalpel. When she took on his partner, disarming him quickly and turning his gun back on him, shooting him in the face.
She spun around to find Dinah had disarmed one of the other two henchmen, with two more out in the hallway sneaking in. Harley shot at the thugs as they stepped into the control room, hitting one in the shoulder and the other in the gut when the gun was kicked out of her hand.
Harley whipped around, scowling as she watched Dinah thrust the heel of her hand into her opponent's face, breaking his nose.
"No killing!" Dinah insisted.
"Where's the fun in that!" Harley snapped.
The thug she'd shot in the shoulder took a swing at her, which she ducked easily. Harley punched him in the shoulder where she'd shot him, making him howl in pain, and giving her an opening to drop to the ground and kick his ankles out from under him, sending him sprawling flat on his back. Harley leaped back to her feet and stomped down on his face, hearing the crunch of something breaking and his pathetic gurgle.
Then she saw Dinah was on the backfoot, two former Lucky Hand guards getting the better of her when injured.
Harley looked around for a weapon, her eyes settling on a wooden plank when she spotted Roman sneaking out of the control room with Crane propping him up. She scowled and snatched up the plank, her eyes darting back to Dinah just in time to see her take a blow to the face.
Fuck.
Moving quickly, Harley ran up behind the bigger thug and swiped at his head with the plank of wood, knocking him out for the count. She smashed him in the face twice more for good measure, and when she looked back up, Dinah had the last goon playing defense. Good enough.
Harley dropped the plank and sprinted out of the control room, finding herself on a metal platform looking down on an old factory that hadn't been used in years. The platform cut across the factory floor like a bridge, leading to a bank of offices, where Crane helped Roman.
Harley took off after them, blood rushing in her ears, the old metal creaking and whining unhappily under her heavy footfalls as she closed in. She was weaponless and she didn't have a plan. All she knew was she wanted to hurt that motherfucker Crane, and Roman…
Harley had something special in mind for Roman.
Roman limped ahead while Crane stopped short, spinning around to face her, wearing his scarecrow mask. He held up his arm as Harley lunged for him, spraying her in the face with a burst of fear toxin.
Harley's vision blurred and her knees went weak, and she staggered back as the scarecrow mask morphed before her very eyes. Maggots slithered through the rough canvas and the eyes gleamed orange, the world around her vibrating violently, disorientating. Harley collapsed to her knees as the nightmare consumed her, the hallucination reminding her of the clown faces she'd seen at the Iceberg Lounge. And like that time, she knew it wasn't real.
"You are the one who will beg for death," the Scarecrow's voice cut through the nightmare, a low horrific growl.
It was supposed to be a nightmare, it looked like a nightmare, but Harley wasn't afraid.
Harley blinked hard, the maggots fading and the orange eyes dimming to Crane's strikingly pale blue. The room around her was still shaking, but the Scarecrow mask came back into sharp focus. Not a nightmare: just a burlap sack and a piece of rope
"You are the weak one, Harleen." It was Crane's voice this time, not the Scarecrow.
That irritating little shit.
Harley scowled and hopped to her feet, embracing the lingering effects of the fear toxin as she lurched forward and ripped the burlap sack of Crane's head.
He froze up, his hair rumpled and eyes wide, shocked. Afraid.
"What did you—"
Harley punched him in the face, a satisfying jab that made him stagger back, his hands flying up to cover his nose. She marched after him, relentless, punching him in the ear, then driving her knee into his balls.
He wheezed and collapsed to the ground, gasping in pain.
Harley fell on top of him, grabbing his hair to hold his head in place before she decked him again, her scabbed knuckles bleeding fresh. The room was still vibrating around her, but Crane was in perfect focus. Her wrath wasn't emotional or personal. She wasn't at the end of her rope—she was just really fucking done with his bullshit.
A hand closed around her upper arm and dragged her backward.
Harley landed on her back, sprawled out, the metal grate digging into her spine as she tipped her head back to look up at her attacker upside down.
It was Dinah, breathing hard and looking dazed, her flayed arm bleeding badly.
Harley groaned and pulled herself up to sitting, blinking rapidly as the world swayed around her, head injuries, fear toxin, and exhaustion forcing her to pause and take a deep breath before she could drag herself to her feet.
She glanced down at Crane—he was unconscious, his face beaten bloody, a tooth chipped—and then she turned to Dinah.
"We have to get Roman," Harley insisted.
Dinah planted her feet, her arms swinging up into an attack pose.
"No, Harley," she shook her head, her expression grim. "I have to take you in."
Harley's eyes widened, struggling to reconcile the familiarity of even briefly being on the same side as Dinah with the knowledge that this was Black Canary standing across from her. And Black Canary still wanted to see Harley Quinn in jail.
Dinah wanted Harley Quinn in jail.
Harley snarled in frustration and opened her mouth to defend herself. She wanted to insist that Dinah was being unfair.
But before she could get the words out, something huge burst through the front of the factory below them.
It was a semi-truck, and on the side, someone had painted 'We Put the Cute in Execute & the Hot in Psychotic!' Harley already knew what was coming. She threw herself to the floor, covering her ears a split second before the front of the semi exploded in a fireball that nearly blew the roof off, engulfing the building in flames.
A seventy-plus foot-long semi-truck speeding through Gotham's Eastside was hardly inconspicuous, regardless of if it had 'We Put the Cute in Execute & the Hot in Psychotic!' painted on the side and the Joker behind the wheel.
In the passenger seat with her phone out, Pam was playing navigator as they turned into Gotham's Oldtown district of warehouses and factories. Few were in working order, thank God, their smoke-stacks little more than a death sentence for the planet.
"Turn right," Pam announced, her eyes darting between the phone in her hand and the road ahead, the cab rattling around them as the Joker used both hands to turn the massive wheel, the tendons in his forearms standing out. His brow was furrowed, and he was prodding the scars inside his cheek with his tongue relentlessly, twitchy to get to Harley.
"It's right there," Pam said, pointing straight ahead.
They were on a wide boulevard lined with gloomy warehouses, a large factory looming two blocks ahead. A tall red brick wall topped with barbed wire circled the property, which appeared to be composed of an office block and the factory itself, more huge smokestacks protruding from its roof.
"You think he's got people watching down here?" Pam asked, squinting at the passing warehouses.
"Mm," the Joker sneered as he squinted out the windscreen. "I guess we'll find out."
"Well, fuck me and throw me in a river," Pam muttered.
When they were a block away, the Joker slammed on the breaks, the entire semi skidding to a stop—incredibly indiscreetly. Its backend flew up and banged into the cab, making the whole thing shake so violently Pam was nearly thrown out of her seat.
She turned to glare at the Joker, who had already kicked his door open.
"What the fuck happened to 'I've driven one of those things before'?" she demanded.
"I have," he snapped, grabbing a black backpack off the floor as Pam pushed her door open. "But uh… last time, I didn't so much park as…"
"Crash?" Pam suggested with a sneer.
They circled to the back of the semi's trailer, each of them opening one of the massive doors to reveal a ramp with the stolen, supposedly fast car tucked behind it, a little red Corvette Pam judged to be a remnant of the 90s.
The Joker loped forward to lower the ramp while Pam squatted down to rifle through the backpack of supplies they'd brought, including a nickel-plated handgun, which was sure to be more effective than the flare gun she still had tucked in the EMT uniform's pocket.
Pam hated guns, and she didn't know how to shoot, but she figured being armed with a gun was better than not as her eyes swept the street, which was only dimly lit in the yellow glow of a few lone lamps.
The Corvette rolled backward down the ramp while Pam and the Joker waited, the Joker vibrating with nervous energy, Pam's hand clenching and unclenching restlessly around the gun's grip.
Once the car was on the street, the driver's door opened and Buddy the mentally ill clown stepped out, his eyes wide and vacant.
"C'mon, Buddy," the Joker coaxed, smooth and charming. He slung an arm around Buddy's neck and guided him back to the semi's cab. "Let's get you all uh… set up to drive."
Pam rolled her eyes and set about closing up the back of the truck, not an easy task when her left arm was still aching furiously, a few Ibuprofen and plenty of determination the only things keeping her going.
Then she slid behind the Corvette's wheel, chucking the backpack in the passenger seat before she got herself situated, her hand flexing on the gear shift as she mentally prepared herself for what was coming next.
She pulled up alongside the cab while the Joker exchanged a few evil but necessary words with Buddy, then slammed the door on him. They'd left Buddy with an old alarm clock on the dashboard, which would tell him when it was time to start driving.
Driving to his fiery death.
Unfortunately, Pam didn't have time to worry about what not giving a shit about Buddy meant for her mortal soul.
Once the Joker's door was shut, Pam downshifted and laid her foot on the gas, the car purring quietly as they took off up the street toward the Janus Plant. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, similar to how she's felt at the beginning of the night in the ambulance. This was different, though. There was more on the line, with many more maybes and uncertainties at play. Pam knew this was the part Harley 'loved,' but she couldn't find a damn thing to enjoy about this sense of dangling off a cliff's edge, not knowing if or when the line tethering her would snap.
Pam was ready for this fucking night to be over.
The Joker was digging through the backpack, arming himself with a gun with a long magazine that looked like the firearm Harley always preferred, and one extra round of ammunition. Pam personally would have liked to see something a little bit more elaborate, and she couldn't decide if she was relieved or horrified when J tucked a fresh grenade in his back pocket.
Fucking hell.
The entry gate to the Janus plant was standing wide open, wide enough that Buddy would be able to slide in unscathed in less than ten minutes. Inside the gate was a large gravel parking lot, empty aside from four sleek black BMWs parked outside the factory's main entrance, guarded by two suited-thugs.
Black Mask was in there, and he had Harley with him.
Pam pulled up alongside the high brick wall, out of the thugs' line of sight, turning the car off before she looked at the Joker expectantly. He'd not reapplied his warpaint, which struck Pam as odd. Overall, he looked like he'd recently taken a trip through a tornado, his hair wild and clothes destroyed, his face bruised and bloodied.
"I should come with you," Pam announced impulsively. "What if someone kills you and Harley's stuck with Roman?"
The Joker snorted, shooting her an amused look as he passed her a walkie talkie from the backpack.
"That's not gonna happen," he announced, cocking a paint-smeared eyebrow with such certainty that Pam groaned at the overconfidence. "You circle, keep movin'," he instructed, swiveling two fingers to make his point. "Keep an eye out for the Bat. I'll tell ya when it's time."
Pam nodded uncertainly, prompting the Joker to duck down, forcing her to meet those dark, unsettling eyes of his.
"Red?" he raised one exceptionally patronizing eyebrow. "We gonna have a problem?"
"Oh, fuck off and get Harley, you jackass," Pam snapped, glaring back at him.
The Joker narrowed his eyes and searched her face for a moment, his tongue sneaking out to swipe over his bottom lip. Then he muttered something discontented under his breath and kicked his door open, hopping out without another word. Pam craned her head out the window to watch him take off around the brick wall, a purple and green streak loping across the gravel lot.
She sat back and let out a long breath, trying to center herself and calm her racing pulse. There hadn't been much time to practice meditation of late, not just since she returned to Gotham, and not for a long time before that. But she gave it a shot now, closing her eyes and focusing on her breath, manifesting a world in which Harley was safe and happy and not exhaustingly worried about everything.
But Pam wasn't as focused as she used to be, and with a few minutes of quiet after a night of non-stop action and noise, her mind drifted to that moment behind the ambulance earlier in the evening, when Penny the EMT died.
But she hadn't just died; she'd been killed.
"Shit," Pam hissed, rubbing her palms on her legs like she was trying to wipe something away. There was something there, something glittering beneath her skin. Something that was both different and the same, both repellent and powerful. Something that felt like Penny, lingering there all night.
Pam reminded herself that there hadn't been time to deal with Penny, that Harley would have done the same thing with a gun or a knife if she'd been in the same situation. Hell, the Joker would have stepped forward to kill Penny if Pam hadn't done it. She was always going to die.
It was reasonable. Rational.
Pam did not meet to justify her actions to herself or anyone else.
Needing to distract herself, Pam thumbed on the ignition, preparing to circle and keep an eye out for the Batman as instructed when Buddy and the semi went shooting past behind her, drawing her attention out the back windscreen.
The back of the semi disappeared into the factory lot, and Pam took a deep breath, bracing herself, and hoping to God Harley was nowhere near the ground floor.
There was a jarring crash of wood splintering and brick and mortar crumbling when the semi collided with the factory's front. Then a moment later, the bomb in the cab detonated in a roaring explosion that Pam felt in her bones, rattling the street around her, making her hair stand on end, and filling her ears with white noise.
Dinah managed to cover her ears a split second before the bomb in the semi-truck went off, the cab exploding in a massive fireball that engulfed the entire floor of the factory. Heat rushed past the metal platform she and Harley were braced on, making it tremble and creak unhappily beneath their feet.
Dinah's hair whipped around her face, her ears ringing so loudly she felt deaf as flames licked around them, climbing up the factory walls. She blinked hard, trying to get her bearings, her vision swimming, and her body aching, especially the patch of missing skin on her arm.
She let her hands fall from her ears and looked up to see Harley rise to her feet smoothly, unaffected by the blast itself, but off-kilter and blinking hard. Concussed and injured, like Dinah was.
Most of Harley's warpaint had been wiped away, her eyes circled in smears of gray, partially covering a black eye, while other bruises were visible through patches of white paint. Her lips were stained red, and dried blood coated her upper lip and chin. Her forehead was split open, blood crusted into her eyebrow, her arms bruised and scraped, her knees bloodied.
She turned on Dinah, betrayal flashing in her blue eyes, making Dinah's chest tighten painfully as she realized Harley had thought they were working together, side by side. That Harley wanted Dinah's help taking down the man who hurt both of them and countless others. Roman Sionis was a threat, there was no doubt about it, and a bad one at that…
But Harley was the greater danger, which might be the best opportunity Dinah got to take her down.
She told herself not to be affected by the wounded look on Harley's face, that it wasn't real, that this was Harley Quinn, a psychopath, a villain, a murderer, manipulating her again.
"I just saved your life!" Harley spat, her bloodied face twisting bitterly.
"You don't care about my life," Dinah scoffed, rising to her feet. "You needed me to save yourself!"
Harley's eyes widened like she was shocked or even hurt. Maybe it was real, or maybe it was an act. It didn't matter.
Dinah raised her arms again, preparing to attack, and fighting off the painful twist of guilt stabbing at her heart.
But Harley hesitated, something Dinah had never seen her do before. Then her eyes narrowed stubbornly, and she planted her feet, raising her arms to mirror Dinah, just as she used to do when they sparred together.
Dinah had fought Harley as Black Canary more times than she could count. Harley always rushed headfirst into a fight, fighting impulsively with raw emotion and a handful of moves she'd picked up along the way. Dinah had never felt guilty or wrong about fighting or hurting or subduing Harley before, and Harley had shown no compunction about wanting her dead.
But this was different. Dinah felt raw and exposed without her face covered, and her eyes began to sting under Harley's intense, emotional glare.
Harley made the first move, leaping forward and lashing out with her fist. Dinah blocked it and retaliated immediately, getting Harley on the backfoot. They fell into a familiar rhythm, punching and kicking, blocking and ducking, slipping right and left, dodging attacks.
Dinah realized Harley was pulling her punches, but instead of taking advantage of it, she found herself holding back too. She let Harley get the upper hand before taking it back again, a painfully familiar but pointless dance like they were putting off the inevitable, and neither of them wanted to face it.
Then Harley lurched forward, grabbing Dinah's arms and slamming her up against the platform's railing, the heel of her hand accidentally grinding against the open wound on Dinah's arm.
"I cared about you!" Harley hissed, her eyes darting around Dinah's face wildly. "I protected you!"
"You manipulated me!" Dinah spat, the guilt in her chest twisting horribly. "You're a psychopath!"
She shoved Harley hard in the chest, making her stagger back, her eyes wide.
Harley hesitated again, looking confused while Dinah leaned against the railing, trying to catch her breath, the flames around them blazing bright, filling the air with smoke.
Dinah tried to center herself, telling herself not to be affected by this act. She tried to find the physical and emotional strength to carry on, to take down her enemy. But before she could move, Harley was on top of her again.
Harley snarled like a wild animal and dug her fingers into the rectangle of flayed flesh on Dinah's arm, intentionally vicious, making her shriek in pain.
"I trusted you!" Harley yelped, her voice cracking. "How could you do this to me!"
Dinah was horrified to discover tears were stinging in her eyes, her jaw wobbling. She headbutted Harley before she could see, making Harley cry out as she stumbled back. She caught herself on the railing opposite, the flames growing around them, lighting up her beautiful, battered face.
Harley bared her teeth, her eyes blazing and shoulders heaving, reminding Dinah of the day she went hunting for Victor and the barely contained rage that lived inside her.
Harley Quinn thrived in violence. She craved it and sought it out, she bathed in like others bathed in the light of the sun. She would chase it down and encourage it in others, delighting in the chaos she created.
It didn't matter if she'd cared about Dinah or if she felt betrayed.
Harley Quinn was a murderer, and she would continue killing people until she was locked away.
Dinah jumped into a defensive position, the soles of her boots growing hot with the fire crackling below them.
The platform beneath her whined reluctantly, followed by a metallic screech as the section she was standing on gave way on one side, falling into the flames below and taking Dinah down with it.
She slid down the length of the platform on her belly, impossibly fast, blood roaring in her ears as she grappled for something to hold onto.
Harley dove headfirst after her, grabbing Dinah's outstretched arm and catching herself on the now-vertical railing. Dinah frantically grasped Harley's forearm so they were linked together, her legs flailing wildly above the flames below.
The threat of death by fire was viscerally chasing Dinah's heels when she met Harley's eyes, making it hard to form a coherent thought. But Harley's eyes were burning bright, focused only on Dinah. She braced herself against the railing, the tendons in her arms standing out as she hauled Dinah up.
The next few seconds happened too fast and too slow at once. Harley pulled Dinah onto the railing below her, and once she was sure she was stable, she climbed back up to the remaining section of the platform where Crane was still flat on his back, unconscious. Dinah climbed up after her, shaky, dizzy, not quite sure she was still alive until the moment she collapsed beside Harley, who was laying on her back, panting and coughing, the smoke thick around them.
Dinah pushed herself up on her elbows, a confusing torrent of emotions sweeping over her as she stared at Harley, failing to understand her, with no idea what she was supposed to do next.
There were a few long seconds where they just stared at each other, many things going unsaid until Harley looked away and hauled herself to her feet. She stopped to brace her hands on her thighs, swaying and coughing through the smoke, trying to pull herself together. When she managed to straighten up, she shot Dinah one last impenetrable look, her bloodied, soot-streaked face inscrutable. Then she backed up a few steps and spun around, taking off at a sprint toward the offices.
She was going after Roman, Dinah realized, and she didn't move to stop her.
Then above her, there was a crash through the ceiling, a blurry black shape swooping down through the smoke and flames, landing on the platform beside Dinah and Crane, a black cape swirling around him.
Bruce.
Dinah watched numbly as he secured a cable around Crane before offering her his gloved hand. She took it and stepped into the circle of his arms as the grappling hook above them activated, and they flew upwards to safety, leaving the fire to claim Harley Quinn and Black Mask below.
The Joker stayed low as he skirted the front of the Janus Plastic Plant, his brogues skidding through the gravel as he loped toward the offices attached to the factory's eastern side. His best guess for where Black Mask was keeping Harley, and Lonnie too.
If they weren't there now, they would be pretty soon once the offices became the only part of the factory not on fire.
He circled to the far side of the building, his eyes darting around wildly in search of an opportunity when he spotted a creaky old fire escape stretching upwards. He rocked back on his heels, his tongue wiggling over his bottom lip as he did some quick mental math, judging he had just enough time to get up there before Buddy arrived to get the party started.
He jumped for the bottom rung, grunting as he yanked the creaky ladder down, its gears grinding noisily, making the fire escape tremble.
It was coming up to five in the morning, and the Joker had been running on adrenaline and nicotine for well over twelve hours by this point. It made him feel wired and a little bit crazy as he clambered up the shuddering structure, the metal barely clinging to the old factory's bricks.
Was this crazy? You betcha. The Joker, racing to save his girl from a psychopath, and hoping, for once, that the Batman would just stay home.
Oh, you couldn't make this shit up.
He smashed the window open at the top, clearing the sharp debris away with the butt of his gun before he folded his long body through. Inside, he found himself in a darkened hallway with a concrete floor, fluorescent lights shining at one end.
That one bad punch to the side of the head from the Batman left his ear ringing all night long, non-stop. The Joker was used to a little tinnitus and enjoyed it even, but this ringing made his balance off-kilter, making him blink hard to focus.
He poked his head around the corner to make sure no one was waiting there to kill him. But it was clear, just a long, brightly lit hallway lined with offices, a closed fire door at the other end leading into the factory itself.
It was all a bit too silent, the Joker decided, licking his bottom lip a few times, looking for another opening, another moment of inspiration, an urge to guide him. But the only urge he could find was the one screaming at him to get to Harley. The same one that had been driving him all night, purring right along beside the adrenaline and the nicotine and the ear-drum damage. And standing there in the silence, he started to get a little… uneasy about Buddy's imminent arrival, and where exactly Harley would be when that bomb in the cab went off.
"Fuck," he muttered roughly, loping forward, not quite ready to consider that they'd miscalculated, and Harley was about to be blown sky-high. The ferries all over again. Oh, she'd just love that, wouldn't she…
But then the fire door banged open, and Roman stumbled through.
He was clutching his stomach, his hands bloodied because someone had stabbed him in the gut, his face bruised and swollen elephant-man style. Ooh, he was in bad shape, and the Joker had no doubt Harley was responsible.
Thoughts of miscalculation and Harley's demise immediately vanished, and the Joker's mouth curled into a nasty grin as he watched Roman stagger forward a few steps, absorbed in his injury until he finally noticed the Joker.
Roman scowled, baring his teeth before he lurched into an open office, disappearing inside and slamming the door shut behind him.
Poor little bunny was gonna try to hide.
The Joker was there to save Harley, but no one knew as well as he did that his girl didn't need saving. She would want to see Sionis suffer, and the Joker was more than happy to help make that happen for her.
He loped up to the door Roman disappeared behind, banging on it with his fist, making it rattle in its frame.
"Romey!" he called, cajoling. "Why dontcha come out and play, huh?"
There was a rattle of gunfire, and the Joker jumped back in time to miss a series of bullets passing through the door, hitting the wall on the other side of the hallway.
Shooting through a closed door, huh? Now that was a desperate move.
He did a quick count—eight bullets in the wall—but who knew how many more rounds Sionis would have in there with him.
But before the Joker could reach for the grenade tucked in his front pocket, Buddy arrived.
The entire plant shook when the semi-truck slammed into it, making the Joker grab the wall to stay on his feet. A second later, an explosion rocked the factory again, making J's already damaged ear warble in an oddly satisfying way.
The fire doors shuddered violently in their frame as flames engulfed the factory floor on the other side. Harley was in there, he was sure of it, but he was also sure she would be fending for herself just fine.
The Joker kicked open the bullet-ridden door, gun drawn, preparing to shoot Sionis in a non-fatal kinda way so Harley could have her turn with him. But what he found in there made him pause, his eyebrows raising curiously.
It was a small room, and it smelled like shit, actual human shit. Meathooks were hanging from the ceiling, and a series of wooden crosses lining one wall, another wall laden with all manner of 'persuasive' instruments. Some were of the vintage variety, some even older, some CIA and military-style toys. All of it collected and curated for the express purpose of delivering pain.
This, the Joker realized, was Black Mask's torture chamber.
There was a small cage in the middle of the room on the floor, only big enough for a dog.
Lonnie was stuffed inside that little cage, naked and doubled over on himself, contorted, and whimpering.
Sionis stood over him, struggling to stay on his feet, one hand pressed to his gut, the other pointing a gun at Lonnie's blonde head.
"I'll kill him," Roman snapped, spittle flying from his lips, crazy. "Let me leave, or I swear, I'll kill him!"
The Joker ignored the threat, opting to release a low whistle as he reexamined the torture chamber, keeping his gun trained on Roman.
"Jesus, Romey, you don't fuck around, do ya," he drawled, his eyes lingering on what he was pretty sure counted as a flaying station in one corner.
"I'll shoot him!" Roman raged, his voice pitching higher, his arm trembling. "He's your secret weapon, isn't he? Isn't he!" Roman bared those white teeth of his. "You won't be as effective without him. Let me leave, Joker!"
Lonnie started crying.
For half a second, the Joker considered killing Lonnie to prove a point. But ultimately, the urge to do it wasn't there. As much as the Joker loved to make a point, Roman was trying to use his ego against him to get a message across. And while the Joker may have had an ego the size of the sun—as Harley put it—he wasn't a man who could be easily manipulated. Certainly not by someone as predictable as Roman Sionis.
And he definitely wouldn't be letting Roman go.
"The fucking Bat's here, J!" Red's voice crackled through the walkie tucked in his back pocket. "Stop fucking around and get out here!"
Roman's eyes widened, his nostrils flaring—panicking.
"So this is where it happens, huh?" the Joker drawled, strolling further into the room, smirking when he saw Sionis take a nervous step back. "This is where Black Mask makes his human toys."
"You're insane," Roman spat, his voice ragged. "If the Batman's here, we all need to leave!"
"Oh, we will," the Joker sing-songed. "I just gotta feeling you and me aren't gonna get another chance to talk." He raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Not once my girl gets her hands on you."
"What do you want? What is it?" Roman sputtered. "What will it take? I'll—I'll give you anything!"
"How predictable," the Joker sighed. "Ya know, Eddie was half-right about you. Boring? Yes." He hummed thoughtfully, his brow knitting together. "Dangerous, though? Ooh, I dunno, Romey…"
The fire doors out in the hall slammed open as someone burst through them, smoke, and the blaze's deafening roar in the factory flooding the hallway.
Harley flew into the room like a force of fucking nature, a hurricane of tangled platinum hair and torn, fluttering red silk. Her face and body were bruised and bloodied, her glacial eyes bright and wild as she skidded to a stop in her sooty white boots.
Not a squishy puddle, not a burnt-out husk, not a lifeless body.
Just Harley in all her chaotic glory.
The Joker took a shot at Roman's hand, making him scream and drop his gun, losing a few fingers in the process.
With Roman momentarily subdued, the Joker grabbed Harley and yanked her close. His heart was suddenly pounding in his neck as she threw her arms around him, making a desperate sound in the back of her throat when their mouths collided sloppily. The Joker found himself suddenly dizzy, breathing too hard through his nose like he was hyperventilating as he groped her back and her waist and her hair, tasting the blood drying on her lips and the woody flavor of smoke in her mouth.
She pulled back abruptly, her hands flying up to cup his face, her eyes wide and so full of feelings, making him feel weird in a way only she was capable of doing.
"J, what the absolute fuck are you doing in there!" Red's voice raged from the radio in his pocket.
Her friend's voice brought Harley back to reality. She pivoted away from the Joker to Roman, who was slowly crawling toward his gun. Harley stomped forward determinedly, and the Joker was sure her face would be composed in that ice-cold meanness he liked so much on her. She viciously kicked Roman in the face, making him scream as a spray of blood flew out of his mouth.
Harley scooped up the gun and tossed it to the Joker, who caught it and tucked it away neatly with his. Then he joined Harley in wrestling open Lonnie's cage, dragging the scrawny little bastard out while Roman lay groaning on the floor a few feet away.
Lonnie had a ball gag in his mouth, and he was wearing a soiled pair of tighty whities, his body covered in open wounds where stripes of skin had been removed from his arms and chest, following the path of some of his tattoos. But he was conscious and wide-eyed as he collapsed on the floor, his head bobbing weakly when Harley unbuckled the ball gag from his mouth and threw it at Roman's head with a scowl.
Red started shouting into the radio again, demanding they get their asses out of there.
"Get the fuck up, Lonnie!" Harley snapped.
Lonnie burst into tears, huge ragged sobs as he pulled himself up to his knees, looking as wretched as it was possible to be. He ignored Harley, staring up at J with a look in his eyes that was far too similar to the way Harley looked at him just seconds earlier.
"I knew you'd come!" Lonnie sobbed, his face crumpling before he threw himself forward, flinging his arms around the Joker's legs. "I didn't talk, J! I swear, I didn't talk!"
The Joker looked at Harley, bewildered, and she flung her arm at Lonnie in an impatient gesture that made J sigh, understanding what she wanted him to do. He ducked down to grab Lonnie's shoulder, making his head tip back so he was looking up, breathing raggedly to stave off sobs.
"Ya did good, Lonnie-boy," the Joker reassured him, squeezing his shoulder hard. "Ya did real good, but uh, we gotta get outta here now. So…"
"So, get the fuck up, Lonnie," Harley snapped, grabbing his elbow and hauling him to his feet with the Joker's help. He was wobbly and still crying, but he allowed Harley to drag one of his ropey arms over her shoulders to keep him on his feet. "God, you smell like shit," she wrinkled her nose.
The Joker turned his attention back to Roman, who was flat on his back on the floor, holding his mutilated hand against his chest, his breathing shallow as he glared up at them resentfully.
"What are you going to do?" he croaked when the Joker squatted down beside him, smirking.
"Blood loss," the Joker purred, flashing him a toothy grin. "It's a killer."
Roman's nostrils flared in anger, but then Harley spoke up.
"We're taking him with us," she announced coldly. "I have something special in mind," she added with a sneer.
The Joker didn't need to hear more than that. He ducked down and hauled Roman up over his shoulder—fireman style, ironically enough. He grunted with the effort, adrenaline, and his own personal brand of freakish strength helping him rise to his feet and stagger after Harley and Lonnie as she snapped at him to stop being a pussy and get moving.
The blaze in the factory had made its way through the fire doors, filling the hallway with smoke that would be sure to kill them all at a later date if they didn't make a quick escape. Roman's weight made the Joker grit his teeth as he ran after Harley and Lonnie, palming his back pocket for the radio. Red was still raging through it—actually being a little bit funny, though he'd never admit it out loud—once she gave him an opening, he snapped at her to get her ass over to the eastern side of the building.
Getting down the fire escape was a challenge that consisted of shoving Roman out the window so he landed on his back, groaning weakly. At the same time, Harley and the Joker helped Lonnie out with a fraction more delicacy but zero patience. Lonnie stopped crying, choosing to pant through his nose while he focused on climbing down with Harley keeping an eye on him.
The Joker decided pushing Roman down each floor made the most sense, giggling each time he landed with a rattle and a pained groan.
Red zoomed up in the stolen red Corvette, hopping out as soon as it screeched to a stop.
"Jesus - fucking - christ!" she shouted, clapping her hands between each word. "Hurry the fuck up, you morons!"
Harley landed solidly on her feet, and Red immediately swept her up in a hug, squealing something girlish while Harley batted her away, insisting they celebrate later. Still complaining, Red ducked back inside the car to pop the trunk while Harley shoved Lonnie into the passenger seat, then spun around in time to see Roman land flat on his back in the gravel after falling a good ten feet from the fire escape.
The Joker jumped down beside him, giggling wickedly when Harley stomped on Roman's head, knocking him out for the count. Then she bent down to grab his ankles while the Joker grabbed him under the armpits, and together they carried him to the back of the car.
"Why the fuck isn't he dead?" Red demanded, leaning over the hood.
"Get in the car!" Harley snapped back at her, and Red scowled but slid behind the wheel nonetheless.
They swung Roman into the trunk and slammed it shut on him, then the Joker grabbed Harley's hand and tugged her toward the passenger seat. He ducked inside, elbowing Lonnie up onto the center console since the car didn't have a backseat, his legs ending up in Red's lap as he curled into the fetal position.
"Why does 'Anarky' smell so fucking bad?" Red scoffed, wrapping her hands around the wheel and the gearshift while Harley clambered in on top of the Joker, slamming the door shut behind her.
Red laid her foot down on the gas and downshifted, and they peeled out, the flaming factory starting to crumble behind them.
But they weren't home free yet.
No sooner were they out of the Janus Plant's lot and streaking up the long boulevard of warehouses when a whirring sound started up.
Harley and the Joker both craned their heads around to look out the back window, already knowing what they'd see there.
The Batpod drawing closer.
"Can we outrun him in this thing?" Harley demanded, looking at Red. "Floor it!"
Red winced and downshifted again, her eyes glued to the road ahead as the speedometer swung up and the engine revved.
There was a sharp buzzing sound behind them, like a giant magnet charging.
"Pam, TURN!" Harley screeched, prompting Red to whip the wheel to the right so they went skidding around a corner.
A small rocket exploded in the street behind them, sending up a shower of asphalt.
The Batman pulled up behind them, unrelenting.
"Ah, fuck," Harley whined when he started gaining on them again.
"Flare gun, Red, flare gun," the Joker spat, shoving Harley away so she ended up half on the floor, half on his legs.
"Flare gun?" Harley demanded, bewildered.
Red fumbled in the EMT jumpsuit pockets bunched up around her waist until she found the orange plastic device. She passed it over with shaking hands while the Joker rolled down the window and twisted around to thread his arm and head out, just in time to see the Batman getting ready to take another shot at them.
The Joker squinted out of one eye and pulled the plastic trigger.
A red-orange streak of light left the barrel of the flare gun with a PEW!, lighting up the Batman's masked face for a split second before hitting the front wheel of the Batpod. It flew up off the street in a brilliant explosion of crimson sparks and black rubber, throwing the Batman to the curb.
The Joker fell back into his seat, feeling a little woozy as Harley climbed back on top of him.
"Is that it?" Pam demanded. "Is he dead?"
"He's done for tonight," the Joker grunted, his hands sliding around Harley's waist of their own accord.
He tugged her flush against him and pressed his nose against her bruised shoulder, feeling her warmth, her blood pumping away beneath the surface, her life so much stronger than the mere mortals who rotated around her like planets around the sun.
He hummed and nuzzled her arm with his nose, his arms wrapping around her fully as she threaded her fingers into his hair and released a heavy breath like she'd been holding it in.
"Mm," the Joker grinned, his head tipping back so he could look up at her. "They're gonna start calling you the unkillable Harley Quinn."
"Don't give her any ideas," Red huffed, making Harley laugh softly. "Where am I going?"
"The Narrows," Harley said immediately, her eyes focused on the Joker as she smoothed his sweaty hair back from his sooty face, offering him a soft smirk. "We need to have a little chat with Black Mask."
A/N: This was going to be one long 20,000-word chapter PLUS an epilogue, but I decided to split them up and stagger them instead.
I know everyone's probably swooning over the Jarley reunion at the end there, but for the sake of future installments, I wanna know what you thought of the Dinah x Harley drama.
I hope you have a good holiday season. The next chapter & a decent-sized epilogue are coming on 27 December, so I'm wondering who's gonna be around to read it…
Next: The final chapter + an epilogue!
Please review...
xo