A/N: Back again my lovelies! And I must say I'm surprised by the response to this. but I'm so pleased! Thank you to those you who have reviewed. I'm glad you're liking it so far. And no one complained about the accent so it must not be too bad. Enjoy the newest chapter and I'll have another soon as I can ^_^ Peace and Love!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Rings a bell, it aint mine.
After the demon in a womans skin left her to her solitude Corey found herself sulking and raging in equal measures. For hours she would sit on her bed, head in hands, and simply berate herself for allowing this to happen. She should have been more careful, buried the files deeper, bounced the gifts and letters around some more, anything to make it so that heinous bitch had never found her son. Then her thoughts would turn to the woman who still hadn't given her name. Her and her words were infuriating, and she would let her powers come to the surface, covering her body in a protective layer of electricity as she punched and kicked at the walls. Feral shouts would fill the room, at least until the guards got sick of it and the holes in her cell closed, sending her off to darkness. Then she would wake up and do it again. By the fourth day she was spent, her incensed spurred insanity cleared away enough that red wasn't clouding her vision and her chest was no longer tight with anger and anxiety.
The calm brought rationalization, and she figured she might as well play whatever game they were laying out. Like she'd told the demon, she didn't have much of a choice. She could rot here knowing her son was drowning in the world, or she could go out and hopefully, hopefully, they would keep their word and actually help him. As the days slipped by though and nothing out of the ordinary happened she couldn't help but wonder if the woman had just been blowing smoke. Another form of torture, more mental than the physical attacks she'd come to expect. Maybe there actually was no team, she'd just been some psycho government worker that got her jollies from riling up the supes. Kinda like Griggs, but he was too dumb to mentally hurt anyone, even if he really tried.
It had been a little more than a week after their talk that it happened. She'd been drifting off, more asleep than awake, when loud yelling and stomping of feet crashed across her senses. A large hand roughly hauled her out of bed, and on instinct she zapped the man, hands thrusting out to meet a solid chest and then he was gone. But then she was getting pelted on all sides, eyes not even completely open as she tried to defend herself. She threw her arms out straight, her intention to throw out an electric surge and knock everyone back. Instead her arms were encased in rubber and pulled tight. Buckles clicked together as the specially made straight jacket was tightened around her form. Unfortunately with her arms made useless all she could do was angrily spark at them. Her eyes finally focused on the guards in front of her, and once her arms were tight across her body Griggs stepped from behind her, cocky smile in place.
"Afternoon lightening bitch."
"Fecka."
Two more guards grabbed her arms and she was frog marched out of her cell and out of the rubber coated room that surrounded it, to be thrown roughly in a wheel chair made of thick glass. Straps crossed her chest, stomach and legs, locking her securely in place. Large fingers tangled in her hair and her head was slammed back against a head rest, more straps crossing her forehead and looping under her chin. Immediately she was wheeled away. She thrashed her head and pulled against the straps but there was absolutely no give and all she succeeded in was giving herself some new hurts.
"Feck am I goin' ya bastard?"
Nothing but the uniform sound of footsteps answered her and she growled as she was pushed into a hallway filled with dozens of soldiers and guards. The straps on her head prevented her from seeing much, but she could make out men and woman in medical masks at the front of everything, messing around under the multiple lights that had been set up. She could hear others, sight was limited due to the huge scaled being that stood on a dolly in front of her, however a familiar high pitched Brooklyn accent rose above everything and Corey just shook her head, stunned.
Corey could only assume whatever was happening had to do with the damnable team. But if they had recruited Harley, who she'd had the pleasure of running into once or twice, and if she had to hazard a guess it was Killer Croc standing in front of her, who she had never even caught a glimpse of, then they were crazier than the ones they had picked out. How do they expect to control the Queen of Gotham? She can't even control herself. A high squeal and a flash of platinum hair being wheeled to the side and they were once again being pushed forward. A deep voice from directly in front of Croc took up its own rhetoric, promising death to anyone who touched him. He too was wheeled away and then it was Crocs turn. She almost laughed as the doctors backed away, gasps and murmurs flowing between them. He began to growl menacingly at the doctors while one stepped forward, nearly trembling with nerves, and quickly shot him in the neck with some weird gun. Then it was her turn. She eyed the cases and guns with trepidation, jerking against her bonds once again.
"Ey. EY! The feck is dat? Wha'chu doing dere?" No one answered her, merely bustling around, preparing the gun and rubbing her neck with a cold alcoholic pad. "Wha? Can ya nae hear me ya feckin' sky pilot! EY!" The gun was quickly pressed to her neck and a cold object was inserted into her skin. She could feel the electricity in it but couldn't reach it, all information cut off from her by the glass coating around it. She followed the path the others had taken, chair bumping along roughly as they were all lead outside. Soldiers surrounded them, guns in hand, as they were lead towards a large looming plane.
Still behind Croc he was really all she could see, but she heard Harleys cackle rise above it all, and soon Griggs came into sight. Pushing against soldiers and calling out to Harley he was the epitome of panic stricken. Wide eyes set in a pale face met hers for barely a second before she was wheeled through a gate and up the ramp of the plane. A wicked grin crossed her face as she tried to once again find her prison guard bully, wanting to relish the fear that nearly consumed him. If he looked that riled up about something to do with Harley than she could only assume Joker had gotten a hold of him. Probably knew all about how his Psycho Pop Princess was getting out of Bella Reve, even if it wasn't entirely freedom. You'd have to be a complete moron not to realize he would come for her. And when he did she'd be sure to tell her king all about the hospitality the guards had kindly bestowed upon her.
The back of her chair was situated against the planes wall and efficiently secured, wheels locked in place and strapped as well, just in case. To her left was the large hatch door and to her right, barely in her peripherals, she could see Croc growling and twitching in his dolly. While directly in front of her sat a long line of decked out soldiers, glaring eyes pinned on the criminals in front of them. The doors closed and the plane took off, Harleys giggles ringing in the air. The flight wasn't long, in fact they probably could have just drove them all to their destination, but Corey figured it was all about intimidation at this point.
Making a face at the men in front of her she allowed her mind to wander, and the flight passed quickly as she thought of what she could have possibly gotten herself into. The plane dipped and eventually landed, bobbing and jerking along the runway. The door slid open once again and this time she was in the lead as they were wheeled down the ramp and lined up, soldiers standing stiffly behind them and rushing all around.
"Alpha! Bravo team, on me."
Her eyes darted to the voice, a man with leadership nearly pouring from him and a camo baseball cap. Four men followed him, two on either side. The two on the left were in full gear, looking the perfect soldiers, while the two on the right wore their military issue pants and weapons belts but left their torsos to only be covered in tight tank tops, looking the perfect tools. The man who lead them seemed to be a mixture of both. As they walked closer she could hear the crunching of gravel and Crocs growls growing nearer. She watched the mens faces, grinning when one of the tools muttered a 'what the hell, Flag.' Yep, Gotham sure could bake up one crazy criminal, she thought proudly.
The man, Flag, stared at them for a few seconds before ordering the men to unlock them. They were quick to obey, straps falling around her as a helicopter landed nearby. Standing quickly she shook out her legs, trying to gain feeling in them again, as hands swiftly unlatched her straightjacket. Flailing her arms a bit to help get the blasted thing off she stretched out her arms when she was free, locking her fingers behind her back and pulling her arms up to pop her shoulders. Rolling her neck she sighed in satisfaction as that popped as well, and then swung her gaze to her...teammates. Out of the five of them, four were villains from Gotham, a fact she couldn't help but snicker self-deprecatingly at. Seemed the Bat was getting good at his job. She could feel the others eyes on her as well, lingering on her scar.
"Hey boys! Harley Quinn. How ya doin?"
The men didn't react to her introduction or her bright smile, but she didn't seem to be off put by it. She just continued to smile and look around. Corey simply crossed her arms across the ugly orange prison uniform and cocked an eyebrow, resisting the urge to blow the curls that fell into her face away. Eyes locked with the man in front of her she could see the disgust and self importance held there. Like she was the scum of the earth, and he was too good to even share the same air as her. As them. A sneer curled her lips and she resisted the urge to spit in this mans face. How she hated the entitlement of some people.
"Huh? What was that? I should kill everyone and escape? Sorry. The voices." Silence reigned, and the urge to suppress a smile was strong. Harley was a little wacko, but as long as you rolled with her crazy she wasn't that bad. She could even be pretty damn funny. Like now, for example. With a little giggle and a flippant wave of her hands the lady clown continued. "I'm kidding! Jeeze. That's not what they said." Coreys smile finally broke through and she rolled her more green than blue eyes. Yep, total wacko. Not that she'd ever speak that particular thought. She quite enjoyed life. For the most part anyway.
"What have we got here.? Twelve pounds of shit in a ten pound sack." Flag strode up to two more soldiers that were carrying a large mail sack holding a struggling, grunting body. Leaning down the man flicked out a pocket knife and cut through the sack from top to bottom. "Welcome to the party Captain Boomerang." A dirty looking man scuttled his way out of the bag and quickly hopped to his feet, turning and punching the man to his right directly in the face. A laugh was startled out of her as the man was pushed roughly into the golf cart looking thing behind him, Flags arm across his throat.
"Ey, ey, ey, ey what's goin' on then?"
"Calm down."
"Hey, one minute I'm playin' mahjong with me nana and than this red streak hits me outta no where." Both brows rose at the excuse, highly doubting he'd been anywhere near his nana when he'd been caught.
"Shut up! You were caught robbing a diamond exchange."
"I was not." Boomerangs voice rose in pitch at the end, indicating his offense. And his lie.
Shaking her head at the exchange, and biting back another laugh, her attention was diverted by the sleek black SUV that pulled smoothly up next to the group.
"Here comes Slipknot," Corey perked up for a second eyes trying to find the form of anyone behind the tinted windows. The band? "The man who can climb anything. Wonderful." Boo. With a slight pout she looked away, shifting her stance as she wondered how many more people were suppose to show up. The sound of flesh on flesh drew her eyes back and she watched as Slipknot was manhandled over to the line, a fallen woman carefully cradling her jaw behind him.
"Now listen up!" Flag was now stood in front of everyone again and began to slowly pace back and forth. "In your necks, the injection ya got, it's a nanite explosive. It's the size of a rice grain but it's powerful as a hand grenade." Corey felt her jaw clench and curled her fingers into her palm to stop her hand from raising to the spot she knew the little bomb was. "You disobey me, you die. You try to escape, you die. You otherwise irritate or vex me and guess what? You die."
Harley's hand rose into the air. "I'm known to be quite vexing. I'm just forewarning you." And of course Corey couldn't hold in her two cents in either.
"And I'm pretty irritating."
"Ladies you better shut up!" Flags glare shifted between the two of them. Harley let her hand drop with a pout, and Corey closed her mouth with a happy little shrug. "This is the deal. You're going somewhere very bad, to do something that'll get ya killed. But until that happens, you're my problem." He spread his arms wide with a smug smile and for a second no one spoke.
"So is that like a, a pep-talk?"
"Yeah, that was a pep-talk." He pointed off to the side, never breaking Deadshots gaze. "There's your shit. Grab what you need for a fight. We're wheels up in ten." He went to turn away but the hitman stopped him.
"You might wanna work on your team motivation thing. You heard of Phil Jackson?"
"Yeah."
"He's like the gold standard. Okay? Triangle bitch." Throwing up a triangle he nodded like he'd just dropped some Dalai Lama type knowledge. "Study."
Rolling her eyes with a smile Corey turned away from the group and practically skipped over to a trunk with her name emblazoned across the top of it. Biting her lip in excitement she flipped open the lid and couldn't contain the small squeal or her happy dance as she laid eyes on her gear for the first time in over a year.
Without a thought she pulled off the orange long sleeve top and pushed down the orange elastic pants, kicking them away with bare feet, leaving her in her dark blue bra and boy shorts. Reaching for the few outfits she could see she smiled and pulled on her favorite pair of pants, tight faded blue jeans that had acid fading zigzagging down the legs. Next came her favorite top, a bright red halter top that was tight across her chest. Stopping under her breasts thick straps took up the rest of it, making an X across her stomach and meeting at her lower back to hook together. Thin straps lay under her arms, zigzagging her back to hold the thicker part of her top together. Silver steel-toed combat boots adorned her feet and a well worn studded leather jacket that just barely brushed her hips was thrown on.
Flipping her hair out of her jacket she bent down to grab her weapons, looking up at Harleys sudden voice. She looked up just in time to see eyes flick away and people starting to move again, and her brow furrowed for a second in confusion. Brushing it off she reached into the box again, pulling out a sleek black 9mm glock along with holster. Strapping it to her right thigh she giggled in delight as long thin metal gleamed up at her. Wrapping her fingers around the thick metal she pulled it close to her, fingers running reverently up and down its cold surface. With a fierce grin she sent out a small shock into the staff, sending it shooting from a mere two feet into a six foot taser. Spinning it a few times she once again shocked it and it shrunk to its smaller form. The weapons holder was quickly found and her most prized possession was hanging from her left hip. Now done she glanced around before quietly slipping up besides Harley.
"Hey there Queenie."
With a gasp the blonde bombshell spun on her heel, hands cupping her cheeks in delight. "Oh Trixie!" Giggling like mad the woman latched onto the Irish lass' arm and began twirling them in tight circles. "You're here! Everyone's here! Not everyone...not my puddin'." For a second Harley stopped, eyes sad, before she popped back to normal, eyes bright and swirling with their normal mania. "But not for long so that's okay! What'cha doin' here? Oh! Did you meet the Devil too?" Glittering eyes stared into hers and it took a second for her brain to comprehend the words that were quickly shot out. Harley was hard to keep up with in the best of situations. But her last words caught her attention. The Devil? Same demon in hiding I encountered?
Pulling away Harley produced a small hand mirror and began to apply her makeup with a professional hand, eyes glancing at Deadshot as he fitted the rest of his suit up. "Won't fit anymore? Too much junk in the truck?" As he glanced back at the clown Corey couldn't help herself as her eyes danced down the mans tall frame, landing on the tight pants that stretched across his 'junk' and down his muscular legs. Flicking her eyes away she caught the gaze of Boomerang, who raised an amused eyebrow at her. Unashamed of her actions, nor embarrassed of getting caught, she simply gave a shrug and a shit eating grin before looking away.
"Naw. Anytime I put this on somebody dies."
"...And?"
"I like putting it on."
With a small laugh she bumped shoulders with the man, smirking when he met her eyes. "Don't we all luv."
"Well that's good." Heaving a mallet into her hands Harley flashed a large smile, danger glittering in her blue eyes. "Something tells me a whole lot of people are about to die."
"Yeah it's us." For the first time the tattooed man spoke, glancing at everyone who'd managed to gather in a small circle. "We're being led to our deaths."
"Speak fo' yourself mate. Hey what's that crap on your face? Does it wash off?" Croc gave a deep laugh and a small amused puff of air made its way out of Coreys mouth. "And you? What's up with the scar?" Their eyes locked for a second as Boomerangs fingers traced across his face, mimicking the permanent line etched into her skin. Before she could say anything Harley was asking her own question.
"Hey if you like a girl can you light 'er cigarette with your pinky? Cuz that would be real classy."
"Hey, ya'll might wanna leave homeboy alone. He could torch this whole joint. Ain't that right ese?"
Shaking his head the fire starter backed up slowly. "You got nothing to worry about from me. I'm cool homey." An unladylike snort escaped her at the mans wording and she just shrugged off the looks she got.
She may have been strong armed into this, but so far she was enjoying herself.