Author's note: Apologies, I accidentally posted chapter 8 as chapter 7 and neglected to post chapter 7 at all. The issue is now remedied.
"Listen, Mistah, I ain't askin'. Either you give my friend her money back or I will crack your skull open on the pavement." Harley was leaning over the counter, mere inches from the man's face, her threat sounding very earnest.
Pamela stood behind her, arms crossed, watching the whole ordeal. "I told you I'd be back, remember?" She prompted; an extremely unimpressed eyebrow raised in the man's direction. "I mean, you could always just return my skirt to me, but I have a feeling you either ruined it or lost it, so at this point I just want the money."
Harley grabbed him by his shirt, yanking him halfway over the counter. "SHE JUST WANTS THE MONEY!"
"OK, Harley, thank you…"
"I will break your legs, motherfucker!"
"Harley, I think that's—,"
"I will leave you for dead in a pool of your own blood and shit after I—,"
"OK! Harleen! Thank you!" Pam grabbed her by the shoulders, wrestling the man's shirt away from her and separating the two. "It's—that was a bit much."
The drycleaner was scrambling to open his cash register. "Here!" He shoved $200 in Pam's face. "Just take it and don't come back here! Either of you!"
"Oh, well, actually this location is very convenient for me," Pam explained, taking the money. "So I'd like to give you another chance, if you're—,"
"Get out!" He screamed. "Your Karen ass and your psycho friend!"
Pam frowned. "That's awfully rude of—,"
"I'll use your guts like curtains!" Harley was charging back at him. Luckily, Pam caught her by the back of the shirt before she could reach him, dragging her out of the store.
"We can just go to the place down the street," Pam assured him, yanking Harley outside and letting the door shut behind them.
The blonde wiggled free of her grip, dusting herself off. "Fuck that guy."
"Indeed," Pamela cleared her throat, trying to determine how to proceed. "I appreciate your help, but I wasn't trying to get banned from doing my dry-cleaning here."
Harley's chest was still heaving with adrenaline. "You said he was your nemesis!"
"Yes, but in a superficial way," Pam explained. "Like the barista who wrote 'Horley' on your hot chocolate this morning."
"Oh, yeah," the memory was flooding back to Harley now. "Let's fuck her up next."
"No! Nope," Pam grabbed the other woman by the shoulders, gripping her tightly and attempting to maintain eye contact with Harley's frantically shifting gaze. "I'm dropping you off at the gym so you can train, you're not bringing this energy back into my home."
"Fine!" Harley shouted, stomping towards the car and leaving Pam alone outside the drycleaners.
You know what… Pam thought, deciding she needed one more thing before leaving this guy alone. She opened the door, the man jumping at the sound of the "ding" as she poked her head back inside. "If I drive by this establishment tomorrow and don't see a recycling bin outside, I'm going to bring her back in here."
/
Selina was already waiting, cocktail in hand when Pamela entered the skybox. Bruce was there too, halfway through one of the gourmet burgers they charged fans $28 for.
"Pamela," Bruce greeted her first, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "Is she ready?"
"To lose?" Pam asked, signaling for the bartender to get her whatever Selina was having. "I'm sure."
"And her tests came back clean again?" Selina wondered absently, her focus never wavering from what was going on below them.
"I would hope so," Pam thanked the waiter delivering her cocktail with a nod. "She's been living in my house for the last month."
Bruce sat up, his body language communicating genuine curiosity. "Yes, how's that been going?"
"Well, it seems I'm re-claiming my virginity," Pam told him…which clearly wasn't the information he was hoping for. "Say, your marriage isn't open at all, is it?"
"Absolutely not," Bruce answered quickly.
"Then how is it Damian exists?" Selina asked, still not lifting her gaze from the set-up process.
"Selina, of all the things—,"
"Never mind," Pam interrupted him. "Too much drama for me."
Selina smirked as she finished her cocktail, finally turning to look at Pam. "I heard your affair with Kane is over with."
"Why does everyone keep calling it that?" Pam was exasperated. "We enjoyed a mutually beneficial—,"
"Word on the street is she ended it," Selina interjected.
"On what fucking street are you hearing that?" Pam demanded.
Selina shrugged, signaling for another drink. "I have my sources. Anyway, glad to hear your cohabitation with Quinzel is going terribly. I was honestly surprised she made weight."
"She has been eating a lot of pizza…" Pam admitted, glancing down at the arena below as the overhead lights shut off and the familiar spotlights searched the crowd.
Bruce placed his napkin on his now empty plate, rising to stand near Selina. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Please tell me someone vetted Quinzel's entrance music this time."
"Still not my job," Pamela reminded them.
"—AND SHE'S BACK FOR BLOOD—HARLEEN QUINZEL!"
The song started with an aggressive instrumental, the lights finding Harley in her tunnel as she bounced to the music, bare fists pounding on her chest in time with the drums.
Her face was again painted white, that familiar sloppy trail of lipstick exaggerating her already deranged smile.
Bet you think you get the picture
Bitch, you don't know how good I treat ya
"Networks are fine with 'bitch', right?" Selina turned to Bruce to ask.
"If memory serves."
Girl, I've been way too much to handle
Bitch, I've never been a good example
Harley skipped towards the ring, pumping her fist in the air and garnering crazed applause from her section of clearly loyal fans.
Seen not heard is what they told me
I look too good to be this lonely
"Is this a cry for help?" Selina wondered aloud.
I'm pretty like a car crash
Ugly as a lullaby
You really wanna try it
Experiment on me
Harley proceeded to climb onto the ring platform, outside the ropes, and backflip off it, then rip the tank top she'd been wearing in half after she landed it.
Experiment on me
Experiment on me
"Sounds like she's ready for you, Pamela," Selina intoned. "I do appreciate her leaving the blood capsules at home."
Harley finally scurried under the ropes and into the ring, giving a big smile to the camera that projected her bloody teeth onto the jumbotron.
"…scratch that," Selina rescinded the compliment.
Pam sighed when the music faded away. "What's the likelihood she's genuinely unwell, do you think?"
"Rather high," Bruce piped up.
The announcer had moved on. "—OUR VERY DANGEROUS DIVA, SIREN OF SONG, OUR BLACK CANARY—DINAH LANCE!"
Birds flying high
You know how I feel
Pamela had always found Dinah's heterosexuality odd for how committed she was to vests.
Sun in the sky
You know how I feel
Then again, maybe the fishnets she insisted on entering every match with cancelled that out.
Breeze driftin' on by
You know how I feel
Dinah was still standing at the entrance of her tunnel, swaying subtly to the music, her golden robe sparkling under the spotlights.
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
…And I'm feeling good
That's when she began her walk, strutting with a deserved confidence up to the ring, stepping with one leg and then the other over the ropes. It wasn't until the bass dropped that Canary cracked her cool exterior, pulling her robe off her shoulders, looking to the ceiling and releasing a guttural scream.
A scream that was parroted back to her by over half of the area.
Pamela was extremely grateful she hadn't been asked to watch a Canary fight from ground level.
Harley cracked her knuckles in her empty corner, waiting for a staff volunteer to help her lace up her gloves.
This was not going to be pretty.
The first round starting with a bang, neither Harley nor Dinah interested in attempting to learn from each other like Harley and Kate had. Dinah opened things up by charging, swinging for Harley's head and then quickly ducking to jab her in the stomach.
Harley doubled over when the wind was knocked out of her, allowing Dinah the opportunity to land a strong uppercut that sent Harley flying back into the ropes.
The referee placed himself between them, signaling for Dinah to wait while Harley recovered slightly.
Pam shifted her attention from the actual ring to the jumbotron, hoping to get a better look at the damage that had been done to Harley's face.
"Shit!" Damian laughed from his position in the corner, watching as Harley's head lulled from side to side, her eyes unable to focus. "She got her bell rung."
Pam jumped at his voice, he was standing 5 feet from her and she hadn't noticed him. Damian was right, though, Harley did not look 'all there'.
"That's probably a concussion," Bruce commented.
"We'll get her checked out afterwards," Selina assured. "This won't take much longer."
Harley held her eyes closed for a moment, her jaw clenching on her mouth guard, then finally pushed herself off the ropes.
The referee backed up, signaling for the fight to resume.
Uh oh… Pam thought as soon as Harley's eyes opened. There was a darkness to her features, a manic fury that tensed her muscles, pulled her lips into a smile and clouded her formerly bright blue eyes with an obvious rage. It was like watching a shark smell blood in the water, but the blood was all her own.
She sprinted forward, clotheslining an unprepared Dinah in a very illegal move. Harley's fans cheered; the rest booed.
The ref was yelling something at her, but Harley wasn't listening, didn't have the ability to, it seemed. She kicked Dinah in the gut while she was down, forcing the other woman to curl into the fetal position to protect herself.
Pam glanced over at Selina and Bruce, who were both watching, rapt and horrified as Harley dropped down on top of Dinah, mercilessly wailing on any part of her that her gloves could make contact with until she was dragged away by the referee, who threw her into the ropes to cool off.
Dinah rose shakily to her feet, blood smeared on her face and gloves and dripping from her mouth and nose.
The referee motioned for the medical team to check Dinah out while he went to deal with Harley.
"Well…" Selina cleared her throat after Harley's forfeiture due to disqualification was announced. "She certainly knows how to keep things interesting, doesn't she?"
"This is why we don't include streetfighters, Pamela," Bruce snapped. "This exact situation. She has no discipline!"
"She also doesn't have a coach!" Pam wasn't quite sure why she was defending her in this moment, what she'd done was clearly over the line. "She's been hanging on by a thread for years and you guys magically want her to be able to self-regulate after her entire fucked-up support system was ripped away from her?"
"Pamela's right," Selina decided, surprising both Bruce and Pam herself. "Obviously, I never want to see anything like that again, but I like the energy."
"Selina w—we should ban her for life!" Bruce was beside himself.
"No," Selina shook her head. "Get her a coach and have her in my office first thing Monday morning. She was just miscast, that's all."
Now Bruce and Pam were both confused.
"She's not the new Kate Kane," Selina explained with a self-satisfied smile. "She's my new villain."
/
Pam found Harley doubled over on the stretching table in the locker room, her head in her hands, rocking subtly back and forth.
"Christ on the cross, Harleen! What the fuck was that?!" she demanded. "You can't do that! You can't do any of that!"
"Can you talk a little quieter and get me a glass of water?" Harley mumbled, not lifting her head. "And maybe some Oxy?"
Pam wanted so badly to pretend she hadn't heard that last part. "Harleen, you can't ask the woman who tests you for narcotics abuse for opioids."
"Then what are you even good for?!" Harley raised her head to scream. "I'm in pain! I thought you were my friend. Friends don't let friends hurt like this."
"No, that's exactly what friends do," Pam disagreed, in complete disbelief that this was the same young woman who giggled at the strangest aspects of life and cheered enthusiastically for every one of her opponents. "I'm not here to support a manufactured opioid addiction, Harley. Now what happened out there?"
"I don't know!" tears began to run down Harley's cheeks, creating streaks in her already smeared face paint. "I went somewhere else; I went to my angry place. I didn't wanna hurt her like that but she hurt me and I wanna win."
OK, so perhaps the issues here are both more and less nuanced than I gave her credit for.
Pam didn't know what to say, emotions weren't exactly her strong suit, and again, she was not a mental health professional. Plus, she was a little afraid of the dead-eyed Harley she'd had the displeasure of meeting more than once now.
"Harley…" Pam sighed. "I—I'm going to help you win, OK? Let's just—let's go home."
The blonde sniffed, wiping roughly at the snot bubble in her nostril. "Fine."
Pamela would be the first to admit she wasn't accustomed to making decisions without a strategy, but what else could she do besides help this girl? Pam wouldn't exactly say she'd grown to care for her, but for all Pamela's supposed lack of empathy, she wasn't a fan of unnecessary suffering. And Harley had clearly suffered a lot in her life at the hands of others. Pamela had to prove—maybe as much to herself as to Harley—that she was at least better than Jared. Luckily, that wasn't exactly a high bar.