Pam pulled into a parking space that she hoped wasn't hiding any nails or broken glass, she just couldn't be sure in this neighborhood.
She hesitated a moment before leaving the safety of her vehicle, double checking the address against the banner reading "The Asylum" strung haphazardly across the awning. This was the place.
With a deep breath, she popped her door open, grabbing her umbrella from the passenger seat to shield both she and her briefcase from the drizzle that had refused to subside for two days now.
Pamela was trying not to judge a book by its cover, but this place looked like a dump.
The first thing she noticed upon entering was the smell. There was mold present, it didn't take a PhD to figure that out, and a lot of…man sweat.
Ew.
There was no front desk/reception area, once you were inside you were essentially standing in the middle of the weight room, surrounded by free weights and looking at a collection of heavy bags and a dimly lit, roped in platform Pam was guessing passed as a ring here.
That's where she found Harley, in spandex shorts and a sports bra, sweat pouring down her face as she unabashedly whaled on an unfortunate man in a padded suit. Jared was standing on the opposite side of the ring, watching and nodding every so often, his wiry arms crossed over his chest.
"Excuse me!" Pamela announced her arrival…though no one seemed to be able to hear her over the blaring music that made her want to stab through her temporal lobe with a screwdriver. "You should have been expecting me!" she tried again, to no avail. "That's it…" she raised her fingers to her lips and whistled, long and loud, finally causing Jared to look in her direction.
Pam watched his mouth form the words "This bitch again" before starting over to her, first jumping the rope and then off the platform. Harley didn't stop, though. In fact, she now had the man on his back, standing over him and beating her glove into his face.
Charming.
"Aye, Lenny, cut the music!" Jared shouted at the sweat suit clad man sitting nearest the sound system. But just like with Pam, he went unheard. "Hey! You stupid fuck!" he picked up a 5lb dumbbell and threw it in the man's direction, narrowly missing his knee.
Lenny got the message that time, scrambling to shut the music off and leaving them with only the sounds of the violent beating Harley was delivering.
"The illustrious whatever-her-name-is graces us with her presence," Jared bowed in front of her, his grin nefarious and self-indulgent. "Have you brought us our money?"
Pam sincerely wished, now more than ever, that murder was even in the realm of legal. "Her base pay is delivered the day of the match and her ticket revenue bonus is paid upon completion of the match; I know I heard Selina explain that to you. Is there somewhere we can sit down?" She wanted to move this along as quickly as possible as she could already feel herself taking on the smell of this hellhole. "There are a few stipulations I need to go over before I can let you sign."
"And what might those be?"
"Why don't you find us a table so I can tell you?" Pam snapped. She had little tolerance for men—as in the entire sub-genre of human being—but this man she'd developed a special level of hatred for, and it had only taken her two conversations to accrue that.
"If you insist," he acquiesced, then turned around to address Harley. "He bleeding yet?"
"Not—yet—Mistah J," she grunted in response between punches.
Pam was certain they misunderstood the purpose of padding ones sparring partner.
"Well don't stop on our account, then," he told her, that stomach turning grin still plastered on his face. Pam didn't like when it was aimed at her, but also found herself feeling oddly repulsed for Harley. "Let's go, Dollface," Jared waved Pam over to the folding table and chairs Lenny had been sitting at. He now appeared to have vacated the premises.
Pam did a quick wipe of the seat with the sleeve of her overcoat before taking it off and laying it over the backrest so she wouldn't have to touch the undoubtably dirty surface with her cream blouse. She really didn't want to be forced into dry cleaning it.
Opening the briefcase with her thumbs, the metal fasteners springing away from their latches, Pam retrieved the thick contract, placing it on the table between she and Jared. He took it greedily, flipping through the pages quicker than he could possibly read.
"Everything looks in order," he announced. "So long as the 15% plus bonus is guaranteed and the 5 fights."
"That's all in there," Pam assured as she reached for the manila envelope the contract had been obscuring. "But we do have an important condition."
Jared was already unimpressed. "Do tell."
Pam retrieved her report from inside the envelope, handing it to Jared. "These are the findings from the tox screen I ran on Harley. There were multiple substances that jumped out as alarming, but this here?" she indicated the line detailing the fentanyl results. "Is an absolute nonstarter."
"I have no idea about that," Jared was indignant. "I can't control everything that girl puts into her body, believe me."
"Bullshit," Pam was frank. "She's an overdose waiting to happen, and my colleagues and I have no interest in having to answer for it. Either you take her off it or she stays underground."
Jared scoffed. "She's in pain. What, am I supposed to let her suffer?"
"She's only in this degree of pain because you've clearly been running her into the ground for the last two years," Pam snapped. "I haven't the patience for abusive men piggy backing off a woman's success. Get her on a more sustainable pain management regimen or find her a different league." She held out the pen to him. "I'll be testing her again before the match, if she comes back positive your contract will be terminated, have I made myself clear?"
/
Pamela stood in the skybox overlooking the arena, her arms crossed as she watched the fans file in and the technical staff finish their set up.
In all honesty, the fights were her least favorite part of this job and she seldom attended. Or when she did, it was usually more open bar inspired than anything.
It's not that she was offended by the violence, more just the atmosphere, the cheers and jeers, the rank smell of concessions that still hung heavy in the air long after the arena had emptied… it was beneath her, frankly.
This fight felt a bit different, for one, Bruce and Selina had both referred to it as an "experiment", one that Pam's name had become attached to. She'd scouted a bit outside the box for this one, and so their trust in her was directly tied to this going over well. Of course, that was all just semantics, Pamela was a vital aspect of this organization and she wasn't concerned in the least about a disaster losing her standing… but she still had a vested interest.
Selina was approaching now, a spiced pear bellini in one hand and her signature gin martini in the other, looking rather elegant in her black trousers and turtleneck. "This should be interesting," she remarked, handing the bellini to Pam and taking a sip of her own drink.
Pam nodded in agreement. "I was surprised she passed."
"No, I meant you drinking a cocktail meant for brunch," Selina set her straight. "You and your fruit, Pamela, I swear."
Pam chuckled. "Cheers."
The technical staff was gone now and most of the seats were full, the lights in the arena beginning to dim slightly. That's when the door to the skybox opened and Pam looked over her shoulder to see Renee Montoya enter.
Shit.
Pam's attention snapped back to what was playing out below her, but it was too late, she'd been noticed.
"Hello, Pamela," Renee greeted immediately. "You're looking whoreish."
Well, that answers that.
"And you're looking wealthy," was Pam's response. "Was the badge truly necessary?" she referred to the shiny piece of metal stating she was a GCPD detective that Renee was still displaying proudly on her belt.
"Absolutely," Renee made a b-line for the bar. "Give me alcohol."
Selina chuckled. "This is more interesting than your inappropriate brunch thing."
Pam was beginning to regret her attendance.
"Everything ready to go?" Bruce had somehow materialized beside Selina. "Bets placed?"
"Mhm," Selina acknowledged him with a subtle nod. "Quinzel will go down in the 3rd."
"And everyone's on board?"
"Jared will play ball."
"Good."
Then suddenly, the overhead lights cut out, replaced by various roaming spotlights that sent the crowd into a frenzy when paired with the announcer's voice over the loudspeaker.
"ARE YOU READY, GOTHAM CITY?"
He received a volley of screams in return.
"I SAID, ARE YOU READY?"
The response volume somehow increased.
"WE'VE GOT SOMETHING SPECIAL COOKING FOR YOU TONIGHT, FOLKS. THIS IS THE ONE TO KICK IT ALL OFF. PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR YOUR DEFENDING SUPER LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION, THE BATWOMAN HERSELF, MISS KATE KANE!"
The arena erupted as the spotlights focused on Kate's tunnel, her music blaring as she emerged wearing her black satin robe, one wrapped hand raised in acknowledgment.
Danger, danger
Danger, danger
Ring the alarm,
It's an all-girls party and no boys can come
She stepped into the light, striding calmly, confidently up the walkway. Commanding. Completely in charge of her domain.
Stay outta my way
I whip on foreign highways
Heart cold like the ice age
Don't look at me sideways
Kate made her way into the ring, turning a full 180 to acknowledge her fans before pulling her hood off and handing her robe to someone on her team.
"She looks good," Pam remarked, to no one in particular.
"Fuck you," Renee shouted from somewhere behind her.
The music quieted as Kate took her seat on the stool in her corner.
"AND IF YOU WOULD PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR OUR NEWCOMER, OUR CHALLENGER THIS EVENING—HARLEEN QUINZEL!"
The applause that followed sounded a bit…different, to Pam. Though she couldn't hear any discernable booing, it certainly sounded angrier than what Kate had received.
The lights shifted to her tunnel and Pam caught sight of Harley swaying slightly in the shadows.
When the sun rises
I wake up and chase my dreams
I won't regret when the sun sets
'Cause I live my life like I'm a beast
Harley took a step into the light and ripped her hood off, revealing her signature pigtails—though they'd now been dyed red and blue at the tips—and white face paint. However, she'd added red smile that looked like it'd been drawn on with lipstick stretching sloppily from her lips to her ears for the occasion.
I'm a motherfucking beast
Pam felt Bruce tense beside her.
Ayo back to make you run around the game like it's a fire
I spit acid bitch like I got cyanide in my saliva
Watch me wet and heat shit up like I'm a washer and a dryer
While I beat you in your head until you tire
Harley tossed her red robe into the crowd, half of the audience stomping their feet and clapping their hands as she spit what looked like a mouthful of blood onto the walkway in front of her, the excess dripping down her chin.
I suggest you bow to let your chick eat my salami slow
"Christ, we have to censor this whole thing!" Bruce complained. "Who the hell approved the song choice?"
"Not my job," Selina skirted the blame.
"And the blood capsules?"
Pam watched on the jumbotron as Harley punched herself in the jaw before grabbing the ropes and yanking herself into the ring, pounding the floor like a gorilla.
"You sure it's capsules?" Pam wasn't sure whether to feel turned on or concerned.
"Well, this is a disaster already," Bruce decided.
I'M A MOTHERFUCKING BEAST
The music (mercifully) cut after that, but the cheering remained. It seemed Pam was right about Harley's fanbase, they'd certainly come out in force tonight, and they were eating up every bit of her routine.
The jumbotron flipped to Kate's expression, and Pam watched the other redhead roll her eyes.
The two athletes met in the center of the ring, the referee forcing them to tough gloves. Harley blew a kiss Kate's way as they retreated to their respective corners for a final meeting with their coaches.
"Where'd you find this one, Pamela?" Renee was watching this all play out with the same intrigued/concerned expression Pam hadn't realized she was sporting. "Arkham Asylum?"
"More or less," Pam admitted, finishing her drink and deciding it was probably best she order another one.
"Let's have a clean fight tonight, OK ladies?" The referee was saying. Then a bell dinged, and the match had begun.
Kate would start with defense; Pam had watched enough of her fights to know that by now. She liked to use a large portion of the first round to observe her opponent and look for weaknesses she could exploit later once they'd tired themselves out a bit.
Harley would do the exact opposite. Just as that thought crossed Pam's mind, Harley (predictably) went on the offensive, approaching quickly and throwing a jab, which Kate easily blocked with her gloves.
The blonde moved backwards a foot or two, both athletes bouncing, making small adjustments with their feet to put themselves in better striking position.
Harley tried another jab, but this time paired it with a hook that Kate ducked to avoid. Again, they separated to size each other up.
Kate probed a quick jab/cross combo and caught Harley's shoulder, but Harley retaliated with a surprising uppercut that landed just below Kate's ribcage.
Renee cleared her throat uncomfortably.
That was really the only meaningful blow Harley landed in the first round, however, and the 2nd was much of the same—Harley attacking, Kate avoiding and defending.
Then came the 3rd, which Pam knew was supposed to be the last.
Kate quickly became more aggressive, encroaching relentlessly on Harley as the blonde backed up, coming close to the ropes more than once. Her jabs were aimed at Harley's face, although she was doing a decent job at blocking them until Kate added a vicious hook/uppercut/cross combination that the blonde simply wasn't prepared for.
The cross ended up being the most damaging, one hard blow sending Harley to her knees, blood now spurting out of the girl's nose. And thus began the eight count.
Pam was ready to pack up and go home. That was supposed to be it. But to her surprise, Harley stood after 5.
She glanced over at Selina, who blinked in surprise.
"Selina, I thought you said—,"
"Not now, Bruce," she snapped, not even glancing in his direction, her eyes still trained intently on the contest below her.
Harley had now lost any semblance of control or patience she'd exhibited in the first two rounds, her punches both powerful and angry now, it seemed. Kate was back on the defensive, taking body shot after body shot to protect her head and face.
The round expired with Kate in the ropes, and Selina went deathly silent, appearing to suspend her breathing, her body rigid.
"What just happened?" Bruce asked, though the question was more out of disbelief than genuine interest.
"Insubordination," the brunette growled.
Kate was pissed when the 4th round started; Pam could tell. And when the blonde wound up for what looked like a knockout punch, Kate seized the moment and used Harley's momentarily exposed position to land a hook to her temple, sending the younger woman crumpling to the ground, bypassing her knees this time and landing flat on her face.
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but the skybox remained silent. The damage had been done and Selina was livid.