3. Quinn the Quick and the Questionable

The jewelry shop had been closed for hours. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, good things came to wait, and there were all sorts of other applicable clichés that clued Ragdoll to stay in hiding just a little longer. He had to be sure that when he emerged from his sanctuary, he would be completely alone.

Whoever had designed the shop must have thought that a giant vase containing massive fake roses was a good design choice at the time. To be fair, not many interior designers made their decisions based on where they suspected a fairly nimble contortionist might or might not be able to hide. Ragdoll had just made sure to slip into the shop during a busy hour and enter the vase when all attention was diverted; they hadn't even noticed that he was in full costume. If that didn't go to show that the people of Gotham saw what they want to when they wanted it, Ragdoll didn't know what did.

When he was completely sure the place would be deserted, he untangled and slid out of the vase, taking a satchel in hand to hold the loot he intended to acquire.

He wasn't alone.

It took Ragdoll a moment to realize that the other person in his presence was neither employee nor security guard of the shop. Either that, or local security had taken to dressing like jesters for some inexplicable reason. Clad in a bright red, a young woman sat atop one of the display cases, having pried the adjacent one open. A sparkling choker rested around her neck, diamond bracelets traveled up and down her arms, and she was in the midst of slipping a multitude of glimmering rings onto her fingers. Caught in the act, she looked up and gasped. "I was just looking, I swear!"

"Nice try," Ragdoll replied. "You're robbing the store."

"Well, my cover's blown," the young woman sighed. "I didn't want it to come to this, but…" She reached for a nearby purse, snaking a hand inside it. As soon as she withdrew her hand, holding something that resembled a large red heart shape, it dawned on her: "Hey, wait a minute! YOU'RE robbin' the shop too!"

"Getting in here as late as you did without making any noise or tripping any alarms was truly impressive," Ragdoll complimented. "But unfortunately for you…I was here first. And you know what they say: finders keepers, losers weepers."

"You were here first?" the woman scoffed before giving a loud and intentionally obnoxious "HA! Maybe so, but you just wasted your time takin' a nap in that vase!" She looked to the vase in confusion. "How'd you even fit in there, anyway? Ah, never mind. These jewels are mine, so back off!"

Both paused, the exact same thing bothering them. As one, they commented, "Your voice sounds familiar." Then they shrugged it off.

"If you won't listen to reason…" Ragdoll tensed, ready for a fight.

"YOU listen to THIS!" the woman cried, pulling a pin from the heart and lobbing it at the floor. Ragdoll cartwheeled out of the way; the heart exploded, proving itself to be a grenade, leaving a scorch mark on the floor and collapsing another display.

Ragdoll charged for the woman, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her until he could wrench one arm behind her back and put her in a hold. She responded by slamming her head backward as hard as she could, whacking Ragdoll in the face and causing him to lose focus long enough that she could twist away from his grip. She readied another grenade, but he was ready, swiping it from her hand and backflipping across the shop. "Hot potato!" he cried as he threw the grenade at its owner.

The woman leapt to safety as the grenade brought down another display counter; fists clenched, she rushed at Ragdoll, throwing punch after punch. He dodged every single one by moving only a hair to the left, to the right, to the left, to the left a little more. Then he spun and dealt a kick to her stomach that sent her flying across the shop and into another counter so that most of her bangles and rings fell off.

"Wait a minute!" the woman cried as she stood up, raising both hands in a gesture of peace. "Cease fire! Cease fire!"

"You surrender?" Ragdoll taunted.

"Nah," the woman replied. "But it just occurred to me that neither of us is gonna be able to carry literally all this jewelry out the door in one bag. Whaddaya say we just start pickin' up stuff from opposite sides of the store until we've got all we can carry? That way, we don't have to tire ourselves out fightin'." She tossed another heart shaped grenade up and down in her hand. "Unless you WANNA keep tryin' not to end up sock puppet flambé."

"It's actually Ragdoll," Ragdoll clarified. "And…I have to admit you have a point."

"It's still in keepin' with the whole 'finders keepers' thing."

"You take the east end, and I'll take the west?"

"Sounds fair!"

The two thieves split up, loading down their respective bags with as many sparkly stones as they could grab. "Geez," the woman sighed. "Almost makes me wish I'd just found another job in the psychology field. At the end of the day, it's worth it, though."

"You weren't always a supervillain?" Ragdoll asked out of curiosity. "That would certainly explain why I've never seen you around before now."

"Oh…" the woman sighed, "you've seen me around, all right. Just not robbin' jewelry shops. I used to be a pretty big TV personality, y'know."

Ragdoll realized where he'd heard his opponent's voice before and gasped. "You're Dr. Harleen Quinzel of Heart 2 Heart!" He momentarily fumbled his bag of loot out of shock.

"I go by 'Harley Quinn' now," Harley clarified. "More fittin' with the whole supervillain thing. It was just supposed to be a secret identity for one night, but now I don't really care if people know who I used to be."

"If I'd known who you were," Ragdoll admitted, "I would have probably attempted to come up with a peaceful solution earlier."

"Or at all. I was the one who called the truce, remember?"

"Right."

"So you liked my show?" Harley asked as she picked over a selection of glimmering diamonds.

"I was more of a casual fan than an addict," Ragdoll admitted, "but I saw my fair share of episodes. I took your advice quite to heart, Harley."

"Well, thanks," Harley replied. "If I'd'a known you were a fan, I wouldn't have tried to blow you up so many times."

Harley and Ragdoll looked to each other, then melted down into good honest laughter.

"So what prompted the move from advising the lovelorn to plundering the treasure troves of Gotham?" Ragdoll asked.

"I got fired," Harley sighed. "Then…you're never gonna belive this, but it turned out one of my biggest fans was Joker. Hey…between him and you, were all my fans villains? Eh, never mind. Joker found me when I was down and he turned my life around. He got me to smile again."

"That doesn't sound like Joker," Ragdoll stated in confusion.

"Well…he and I got somethin' kinda special," Harley explained. "I'm his girlfriend, you see."

Ragdoll's reply was a knee-jerk "Eurgh."

"Hey!" Harley snapped. "Just 'cause you don't know my puddin' that well don't mean you can just act all disgusted! I see sides of him you don't."

Ragdoll was skeptical, but had to admit that he wasn't in the best place to discuss Joker's inherent value; "I suppose I'm still bitter about the one and only time we met."

"What happened then?"

"He called me a knockoff of himself, warned me that all it would take to wipe the 'infuriating' smile off my face was one rotten day, proclaimed that rotten day was today, then had Punch and Judy wrap me up in chains and throw me in the river." His grin grew wider. "But they didn't wrap me up quite tightly enough."

"I would imagine it would take some pretty tight chains to hold you down," Harley observed.

"So where's Joker now?" Ragdoll asked. "Isn't a night on the town robbing jewelry shops with his paramour his idea of romance?"
"He's got some other big scheme to work on," Harley explained, "and he…well…he kinda said I'd be in the way, so I decided to treat myself a little."

Ragdoll had a few comments about what such a statement meant for Joker and Harley's relationship, but he wasn't in the mood to set Harley off again. "And you've stayed in the supervillain business because of him?"

"Kinda because of him," Harley clarified. "And kinda because of me. My career's ruined, Ragsy. Y'mind if I call ya 'Ragsy'?"

"Not at all, Harley."

"I knew after my night out with Joker, I'd have a hard time fittin' back into society," Harley admitted. "Actually, maybe I never really fit in at all."

"I know that feeling. Though I'd wager I find it more fun than you do."

"But after Joker opened up the door for me," Harley continued, her countenance brightening, "I realized I actually liked wreakin' havoc and breakin' the rules! Bein' a supervillain is like…well, it's like livin' a fantasy! And to think when I was a little girl, I always dreamed about bein' a princess. Turned out I was stuck on the wrong kind of fairy tale character. Villains have so much more fun!"

"You know, it's funny," Ragdoll replied. "When I was young, I always used to dream of being a dashing thief like Robin Hood. And after that, I started realizing I rooted for villains so much more often than heroes in all sorts of stories. It was then that I realized that being a villain was my destiny! And you want to know something, Harley?"

"What is it, Ragsy?"

Ragdoll crossed the shop to put an arm around Harley's shoulders. "Being a supervillain is the single most rewarding career in the world. You may be new to the game, but I can tell you're going to have an absolute BLAST."

"Thanks, Ragsy," Harley replied, flushing a little. "Y'know, for a bad guy, you're not such a BAD guy."

"Oh, I am. You could say I'm very TWISTED. Just not to Harley Quinzel – ooh, I mean Quinn!"

Ragdoll removed his arm and moved to cross back to his turf; Harley held out a hand. "Put it back."

"Put what back?"

"Don't think I didn't see you take one of my rings outta my bag when you had your arm around me!"

Ragdoll returned the sapphire. "You catch on quick, Harley. You're going to make a GREAT villain."

"You got any advice for beginners, since you're a veteran?"

Don't bet all your money on Joker, Ragdoll thought. "Don't be too picky about what constitutes a 'getaway car.' Be creative. That goes for everything, really."

"Thanks!"

Ragdoll decided he liked Harley even better as a fledgling villain than he liked her as an advisor. Not in the way he admired Firefly; she could never even come close. But perhaps she had some merit as an acquaintance, maybe even a pal. He just hoped her proximity to Joker wouldn't cause friction.

Harley was growing rather fond of Ragdoll herself. Not in the way she admired Joker, much in the way he couldn't see her the way he saw Firefly. But for someone who had not a few minutes ago tried to beat her up in order to gain control of the entire contents of the jewelry store, he was quite reasonable and fun to talk to. She racked her brains for another topic to discuss and ended up finding a persistent gripe that wouldn't leave her head instead. Though her better judgment told her not to bring it up, her instincts won out: "I hate Hynden Bennett!"

"Who now?"

"The person who got my timeslot when my show got canned!" Harley growled. "She isn't fun and she doesn't even do anything to help people! I may be a villain, but at least I helped people in my day! All Hynden ever does is try and see how many weird things she can make outta chocolate on her stupid cooking show! If it were up to me, I'd turn up that oven of hers so hot, it would burn her studio right down!"

"I'm sorry," Ragdoll replied, getting an idea, "but did you say you wanted to burn something down?"

"Heck yeah, I want her studio burned down!"

"Do you MEAN it?"

Harley folded her arms. "I really, really mean it. And if I could figure out how to set a fire without the Gotham fire department jumpin' down my throat, I'd totally do it myself."

"Would you pay to have it burned?"

"Wait a minute." Harley began to catch on. "You offerin'?"

"Me? Oh, no, not me." Ragdoll shook his head; Harley was beginning to notice just how much he smiled, even when stating things in the negative. Perhaps she should have found it unnerving. As it was, she found it rather comforting. It was probably a contributing factor as to why she found him so pleasant. He went on; "I happen to know someone who practices arson as a career. He doesn't work for cheap, though."

Harley held up the bag full of jewels. "You think this oughta do it?"

"That should be plenty. But don't you want to save them for yourself?"

"It's really more about takin' 'em than it is about the money," Harley admitted. "I'll just take some more later. So tell me more about this guy!"

"Have you heard of Firefly?" Ragdoll asked.

Harley shook her head.

"How about 'Mayfly'?"

"Oh, yeah!" Harley realized. "Garfield Lynns!"

"That's the one! He'll do the job for you, and quite thoroughly, too. I can arrange a meeting for the two of you at the Fourth Circle club tomorrow night, say, around ten?"

"Where's that?" Harley asked.

"Weisman Street."

"Oh, okay!"

"Though the Fourth Circle is frequented by some tough customers," Ragdoll warned. "I wouldn't go in unprepared."

"Ragsy." Harley held up a pair of grenades. "I can take care of myself just fine."

"Could you identify Firefly by his face alone?"
"I've seen his mugshot enough times, yeah."

"He'll be there," Ragdoll promised. "I think you'll be very pleased with his work. I know I always am."

"Thanks for the tip!" Harley said enthusiastically. She folded her purse shut. "Well, I'm full up on jewelry. What about you?"

Ragdoll clasped his satchel shut. "I've got all I can carry. I suppose this is until we meet again, then?"

"Yeah!" Harley nodded enthusiastically.

Ragdoll put up a hand to wave. "Toodles!"

"WAIT!"

Ragdoll didn't move after Harley screeched. His goodbye had caused her to realize why she'd found his voice so familiar. "You're Peter!" Harley gasped. "Peter with the hot guy!"

"Guilty as charged," Ragdoll admitted. "I told you you'd been a great help."

Harley sighed. "Was there anybody who called into my show who wasn't a wanted criminal?"

"I think I've heard Killer Moth call in to Heart 2 Heart a few times," Ragdoll suggested.

"That ain't helpin'," Harley moaned. "So? Did you tell him how you feel?"

"Not yet."

"Well, WHY NOT?"

Ragdoll shrugged as best he could while holding the overflowing satchel. "Perhaps we have something good enough as is, and I don't want to end it when we've barely begun. Don't worry. I'm careful not to overstep the boundaries of friendship. I just wouldn't want him to call it off over something as insignificant as this."

"You ain't treatin' it like it's insignificant, Ragsy. Or should I call ya 'Peter' now?"

"In privacy, either one. But please do try and preserve what anonymity I have left should there be others around."

"Gotcha." Harley nodded. She had already put two and two together to make four, but now she wanted to see if she could add up to six. "Wait a minute. Gar's an ARSONIST. You said your guy was LITERALLY the hottest guy in Gotham." She looked Ragdoll dead in the eye. "Is Gar your hot guy?"

"Maybe he is," Ragdoll said teasingly. "Maybe he isn't. I'll never tell." If his mask had offered a view to his eyes, Harley was sure she would have seen him winking. Then, without another word, he bent over backward, lay one hand on the floor while clutching the satchel with the other, kicked the door open with his airborne feet, and tumbled out into the street.

Harley had her suspicions, but knew it was best to let the mystery of Ragdoll's hot guy remain a mystery. She knew bringing it up to Firefly himself would be a mistake, even given her track record. Though it didn't mean she couldn't drop hints.

But first and foremost, she was interested in Firefly's professional talents. Hynden Bennett was about to take a great fall.

...

Garfield slumped into his couch, swiped the remote control off a nearby table, and began flicking through the channels of his television for anything remotely entertaining. He would have missed the note completely if not for the sudden sense that there was something new in his peripheral vision that hadn't usually been there. Looking to the window, he saw the sheet of paper taped to the outside, text facing inward.

"What the…" Garfield crossed the room to get a better look at the paper:

"New job for you! Fourth Circle, ten p.m. –R.D."

Garfield shook his head and smiled. It looked like he had somewhere to be.

...

Harley arrived at the Fourth Circle in a short pink dress, already liking the feeling of the thumping of the bass from within. This seemed like a place one could have a fun time, danger notwithstanding. Her purse, draped over her shoulder, carried several grenades in case of trouble as well as a host of jewelry meant to serve as payment for her request.

Entering the club, Harley knew she had to resist temptation to get caught up in the dancing. She most certainly hadn't come here to dance…though she really wanted to. Perhaps later.

Garfield wasn't hard to find. He leaned against the wall, set apart from the crowd. Harley, spying him and knowing him as the one she was looking for, headed directly for him. "Hey, Firefly!" she called out, waving.

Garfield flinched. Was this the new client Ragdoll had referred him to? They usually didn't greet him like that. "Maybe I know him," he answered as Harley got closer. "Maybe I – "

"C'mon, Gar, you're pretty recognizable," Harley interrupted.

Garfield nodded. No point in denying his identity at that point. "So. You have a job for me?"

Harley nodded enthusiastically. "Ragsy told you about me?"

"He told me somebody had something for me," Garfield replied. "He didn't exactly give specifics. C'mon. Let's go somewhere we can talk."

As the pair sought out an empty table, Harley decided to try dropping a few hints. "You and Ragsy must be pretty close, huh?"

"Close? Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"He's a real sweetie pie, ain't he?"

Garfield nearly laughed. "Are…we talking about the same Ragdoll? I mean, sure, he has his moments, but he's kind of a jerk. At least he's the entertaining kind of jerk. Why are you so interested in him, anyway? You into him or something?"

"Aw, no," Harley said with a dismissive wave. "I'm a taken woman. Just makin' conversation, is all."

Harley and Garfield sat down across from each other. "So I'm guessin' you already know me," Harley began.

"Uhhhh…" Garfield shook his head. "This is the first time I've ever seen you in my life."

"Really?" Harley was disappointed. "Harley Quinzel? Host of Heart 2 Heart?"

"Wait, wasn't that that show where people would call in about their love lives?" Garfield realized. "Sorry. Not my scene."

Harley's suspicions grew ever more prevalent. If Garfield wasn't a viewer of Heart 2 Heart, he would have completely missed Peter calling in to discuss the mysterious "hot guy," and that meant he would have been completely oblivious to the whole saga. If Peter had known about this, it might have encouraged him to feel safer trusting Harley to advise him via phone without worrying that Garfield would find out. "Well, you heard how the whole thing went bust, right?"

"Not…really?" Garfield answered, still perplexed. "Didn't you go crazy or something? No offense."

"None taken," Harley replied. "I know I'm crazy. I like to think it's part of my charm. Anyway, I made a few little mistakes, and they absolutely ruined me for it. So now I'm runnin' in your circle."

"You're a wanted criminal?"

"Yeah. Though I'm 'Harley Quinn' now."

"Well, I can say this much for you," Garfield told her with a grin. "You've got great taste in puns."

"Actually, my puddin' picked out the name for me," Harley admitted. "It's just that Joker brand of quirky, ain't it?"

If Garfield had been drinking anything, said drink would have been ejected all over the table. "Your boyfriend is JOKER?"

"Yeah. Why's everyone so surprised by that all the time?"

"Because I didn't know that guy could keep a steady girlfriend without trying to kill her," Garfield replied, still in disbelief.

"Don't tell me he tried to throw you in the river too!" Harley groaned.

"He tried to throw you in the RIVER?"

"No, no, no! He would never do that to me! It was…y'know, never mind."

"Okay, so, question," Garfield brought up. "If you're involved with JOKER, what do you need ME for?"

"Well…" Harley shifted uncomfortably. "Mr. J gets wrapped up in his work, you see. He's real busy, so when I need somethin' done for myself, I gotta do it myself most of the time. Make sense?"

"Yeah…" Garfield was as skeptical of Harley's relationship choices as Peter had been, but decided not to pry further into it. "Back to the point. Whaddaya want me to burn down?"

"Hynden Bennett's cooking show!" Harley growled. "After I got fired, they gave my old time slot over to her, and she's TERRIBLE! Everybody loves her even more than they loved me! How could they love her more than me? I gave happy endings to more love stories than you could shake a stick at! Anyway, Ragsy said you'd be the one to ask about doin' somethin' like this. I'd sabotage her myself, but I have no idea how to get past all that security and really do damage. What's your secret, anyway?"

"Get in quick," Garfield responded, "get OUT quick, and wear a giant gas tank on your back. That's pretty much the only way to go about it. Now, don't go giving me competition now that you know my secret."

"I would never!" Harley gasped, momentarily missing Garfield's joking tone. "Anyway, I can pay ya big time for this. Sorry it ain't in cash, but…" After removing her grenades from her purse, she spilled the wealth of jewelry down over the table.

"Holy…" Garfield's eyes sparkled at the sight. "Y'know, I could probably wreck Bennett's show AND the one after it for this ice."

"Just the one, please."

Garfield set about scooping the jewels into his duffle bag. "So. One overcooked professional chef. Got it."

"This means a real lot to me, Gar. I mean, I know you just do this kinda stuff for the money, but…"

Garfield looked Harley dead in the eye. There was something about her that was just so easy to like. "Hey, it's no problem. Besides, I don't JUST do it for the money."

"It's for the fun too, right?"

"Exactly!" Garfield nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, I better get goin'," Harley stated. "Mr. J'll be expectin' me in a few minutes. I'm bettin' he's got some big plans." She stood. "Hey…I was gonna get in one dance before I left. Wanna join me?"

"I don't dance," Garfield stated flatly.

Harley shrugged. "More dance floor for me!" She put up a hand to wave. "Bye-bye, now!" Then she disappeared into the crowd of dancers, bopping to the beat in a manner that wasn't entirely complex but dripped with energy.

Garfield dipped his hand into his bag, letting diamonds and emeralds pour through his fingers. He had just been set up for a very good time.

...

Hynden Bennett walked onstage to a greater cheer than even Harley had ever been used to. "Good afternoon, lovelies!" the professional chef greeted. "I hope you're all having a delicious day!" She took her place before a counter loaded with kitchen implements and ingredients. "Today, we're going to be making caramel apple pie: a perfect warm treat for the middle of February!"

The applause of the audience was cut short when Firefly burst through the back wall to hover over the set; now the studio audience's reaction was a collective scream. "Somehow I knew you'd be happy to see me!" Firefly bragged.

"IT'S YELLOW BEETLE!" one terrified audience member cried out.

"…I hate literally all of you," Firefly sighed. "So!" He clapped his hands and turned to Hynden's counter. "What are we making today? Ohhhh, looks like apple pie! Well, you know what you gotta do first when making a pie." He extended his wrist at the counter. "Preheat to 350 degrees!" A stream of flame burst from his wrist, and the counter was soon ablaze.

Hynden screamed and bolted from the set as Firefly continued to spread flames about the scenery. He buzzed over toward a camera to give a quick aside; "Y'know, I never was a big fan of that Heart show, but I can already tell this show TANKS in comparison." He then shoved the camera over; the camerawoman leaped out of the way before she could be crushed.

It was the most fun Firefly had on a job in weeks, and when Harley and Peter would later catch the footage on the news in their respective safe houses, they would be in agreement that it was the best episode the cooking show had ever aired.