By the time Harley made it back to their room, the sun was already peeking up from the horizon. Their current hideout was just one of the many high rises that the Joker owned, a deluxe penthouse along Gotham's eastern shore. Maybe it was obvious that criminal activity was going on there, but the GCPD, much less the average citizen, would dare to trespass near the property since it was such a hotspot in a redlight district. Thugs were stationed at the front entrance doors with automatics in hand, standing by as the last remaining partygoers trickled out to go to their homes.

Towards the rear of the building, another pair of goons secured the backlot, not doing such a good job as the front team. One was fast asleep and the other was too engrossed in an adult magazine to notice Harley standing before them.

She waited a while with her hands on her hips and her foot tapping rapidly, curious to see if they would ever notice. Getting impatient, Harley took her Chiappa and blew a hole in the sleepy one's head, spraying blood onto the magazine of the guard next to him.

The guard fell onto his hands and knees and apologized. "I-I'm sorry, Miss Quinn! Ple-aughck!"

She silenced him with a swift kick to his jaw. "Shut your trap and open the fuckin' door!"

Taking a second to soak in the terrible look of her body, he scrambled to his feet and did as he was told. Just for fun, she loaded another bullet and aimed her gun at him. He threw himself onto the ground again and pleaded for mercy at the top of his lungs.

Normally, she would laugh, but she was too exhausted and pissed to be amused. "Eh. You're lucky I'm too tired to waste you right now. But I'll be back later to finish the job, so you better not move!"

Ignoring the fearful expression on her security, she trudged inside and walked throughout the house. The remaining guests and underlings gawked at the awful condition of her body - the torn clothes, bloody skin, and her pissed off look that was only fueled by the people who didn't know better to not stare.

Harley went straight to the back room that she and the Joker shared. She opened the door and found the Joker sprawled out on the bed, shirtless, with his hands resting on the back of his head.

"Ahhh, Harley, Harley… my sweeeet Harley. Where have you been? Out shopping, I hope! That outfit of yours looks like some poor sap tossed it out of the back of a moving truck!" He laughed at his own joke and threw his blanket off to reveal his naked body, and his early morning erection waiting for her.

"I don't believe you. Your girl just hiked halfway across the city, and the first thing you want her to do is fuck you?! I'm tired, Mistah J," Harley exclaimed while stomping her foot.

He shot out of bed and stomped over to tower above her. "You should've thought of that before you screwed up my plan! But thinking is one talent that seems to elude you. Now, get that fiiine ass on the floor."

Harley closed her eyes and huffed. She wanted to say no. She really did. But she never said no to her 'Puddin'' and always gave herself to him whenever he asked for it. Most of the time, she would be the one to throw herself at him. But the Joker had a bad habit of demanding favors whenever she was in the worst of moods. A part of her predicted he enjoyed it more that way, and she was scared to think like that. But deep down, Harley believed that after all the horrible things he did to her, one thing he would never do was deny freedom of her body. She hoped that if she said 'no,' then he would honor her request. Of course, she never actually tried her theory, and instead, hoped that she would never have to.

Harley got on her knees and rested her hands on her thighs. It must've not been obvious that her body was literally on the verge of falling apart, what with the dried blood coating her skin and the limp she had when she walked into the room.

Not like he'd care anyway.

Harley would have to suck it up and pray for the pain to go away. She couldn't count how many times she had to do exactly that in the past. It was a miracle that she hadn't passed away from the myriad of injuries she suffered in all these years. She held her head down and watched as the Joker's bare feet parked next to her knees. She could feel his warmth above her, and took deep breaths to take him in. She was grateful that she only had one meal in the last ten or so hours, or else she'd be puking all over him. Her lover was always extremely rough with her, and neglected her comfort when it came to any sexual activity. Very seldom would he make sure she was actually enjoying herself as well. She looked up at his length and opened her mouth, but the Joker stopped her by resting his palm under her chin.

"I am many things, my dear. But inconsiderate is not one of them. Not to you. Get on your feet." Harley stood up and let her lover caress her bruised face. "You've had quite a night, haven't you, Harley? Why don't you take the next couple of days off? I'll go get the shower nice and warm for you." He chuckled as he continued telling her all that she wanted to hear. "Heh, we can't have you smelling like Cobblepot's laundry basket if you want to please me, now can we?"*

Harley studied the strains of red in the water as it pooled around her ankles.

Her red.

Her blood.

It dyed the water, staining the luxury shower with the speckles that flecked off of her shoulders. Behind her stood two feet parked next to hers on opposite sides.

She could feel his breath on her neck.

Cold, yet somehow, warm enough to overpower the heat from the shower. Gentle hands worked soap into the her lower hips, working their way up her back, through the maze of wounds that used her tattoos as landmarks, all the way up to her neck. Her muscles relaxed under his concentrated pressure, and his lips met her nape. A sensation was sent down her spine, good enough for her to turn around and look at him. Harley did so, and looked him up and down with her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides. Tilting her head up at him, she bit her lip and felt the sudden urge to speak.

"You love me?"

It was asked as though she was stating it - commanding him that he did. He took his hand, the one with the smiling tattoo, and covered his lips. Harley stopped him, grabbing his fingers and repeated her half-question half-statement.

"You love me?"

"Love is... a funny thing, Darlin'."


A Few Days Later

No sleep. No food. No water.

Peter hadn't had any of these essentials since his encounter with the clown princess. He didn't care about eating. His hunger was for Harley's presence. He didn't care about drinking. He thirsted for her obnoxious laugh.

It sounded crazy.

It was crazy.

But Peter was obsessed with this woman. Every night, he'd been swinging from one area of the city to the other, hoping to catch any sign of Harley. And when the sun would come up without her, he'd be reminded of her hair, and how the sunshine paled in comparison to the glow of her. There was also the fact that he was invested in the thought of curing her. Taking her into his arms, into his care, and nursing her back to a healthy mental state. He didn't need to be a psychologist to figure out that that asshole Joker made her like this. He refused to believe that such a beautiful, innocent looking woman could do this to herself.

It had only been three nights since he last saw her, and frustration already began to get the best of him. While he waited, he would thwart petty crimes and take his anger out on small-time criminals. But a big time heist had yet to be carried out on his surveillance. Either that, or the legendary Batman had been beating him to it.

"The Batman…"

Peter clenched his teeth, thinking about the caped crusader. Even though he hasn't found who he was looking for on his nightly scouts, Peter noted that Batman had definitely lived up to his name. He could hear the roaring engine of the Batmobile every night when his assistance was called, as well as the cries of pain from the thugs he knocked out seemingly every second. Peter studied the nightly rituals that Batman did, as well as his habits, most notably, the bat symbol that would shine in the sky.

An idea crossed Peter's mind. It was a desperate one. But he needed answers, and was getting impatient.


Wayne Manor

How many hands would Bruce need to shake before his own fell off? That was one of the many silly questions Bruce pondered to pass the time. Playing into his role, the billionaire hot shot playboy? Even after several years now, it was still an exhausting chore, not helped whatsoever by the burdens of responsibility that came with it. Nevertheless, the job needed to be done. The part had to be played, and Bruce got ready to do so, perching himself on the first few steps of his sweeping stairway. Gently tapping his cuff link against his glass, everyone gave their focus to him. "Attention everyone! A toast, to another year of hard work. Drink to your heart's content. You've earned it." Everyone raised a glass to Bruce's short statement. Bruce took another sip of wine and descended back down the stairs where Alfred was waiting for him.

"Master Bruce, I'm afraid we have a situation."

A few minutes later, Bruce and Alfred were looking out from the window into the Gotham night sky. The anomaly was the fact that the bat symbol illuminated the clouds. It didn't make any sense. Commissioner Gordon had permission from Batman to signal, and Gordon was right here in Bruce's house knocked on his bum from all the drinking. So the question begged, who got access to the bat symbol and activated it?

"Shall I announce your immediate absence, sir?"

"Please," Bruce commanded as he disappeared behind a secret passageway.*

Was it natural to be fully enraptured into the life of a mentally insane criminal? Purely based on physical attraction? Let alone discovering this attraction from only a few minutes of interaction with the person? Peter pondered these questions relentlessly. Flipped them over, turned them inside out, and scanned up and down every aspect of his state of mind. All he wanted was to see her so bad. But with how massive the city was, he had no idea where to start. He'd garnered that the Joker had a countless number of penthouses and suites under his thumb. Couple that with the fact that he also had many politicians and police officers in bed with him, the Joker and Harley could be anywhere. Peter needed help from someone that knew Gotham, rather he liked it or not.*

Spider-Man was sitting on the ground against the frigid metal of an air conditioner unit, with his head resting against his fist. If his plan worked, he'd at least be walking away with a possible lead for where to find the woman that fascinated him. Suddenly, Peter's Spider Sense alerted him that someone landed just a few feet behind him. They were trying to be stealthy, but Spider Man was one step ahead of them. Lifting his head up from its slumped position, Spider Man relaxed and let his head rest against the machine behind him. "About time. You were taking so long, I was about to order takeout." Batman stepped from the shadows for Spider Man to fully embrace his intimidating presence. Spider Man pointed to the sky light and moved to turn it off.

"Figured this'll work. Nice of you to show up."

"This isn't a toy, kid. State your business."

"Yep. Nice to see you again too."

"I'm busy. What do you want," Batman reiterated, getting annoyed.

"I want information."

"On whom or what?"

Spider Man crossed his legs and paused for a second, looking into the moon. Once he made his request, there would be no turning back. His secret would be out. Albeit, to a fellow masked vigilante that he didn't even know, but the principle still remained. He was no longer confessing it to himself. He would now be confessing it to the world.

"I need to know where to find Harley Quinn."

"Quinn?!" Batman exclaimed, taken aback by Spider Man's bizarre request. He had to recompile himself from the curveball thrown at him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't caught off guard. "Why do you need to know where she is?"

"That's none of your business. I just need help finding her. Anything. Patterns, past shootouts, whatever. I just need a lead, and I haven't been able to find one at all, okay?"

"Is this about your foolish vendetta to defeat Joker?" Prodded Batman.

"I could care less about him. Harley is who I need." Batman squinted his eyes and took a few steps closer, attempting to read Spider Man. Unfortunately for Batman, Spider Man's mask left no room for expressions to be made out. All Batman could see was an admittedly intimidating figure with no emotion, save for when the kid spoke and gave away his youth. One thing, however, Batman did pick up on was the fatigue that plagued the young hero. Based on his body language, it was obvious that Spider Man had no energy and was in no condition to hold his own in a meager street brawl.

"Make no mistake, wherever Quinn is, Joker isn't far. And we both know that you aren't fit to face Gotham's top criminal. Whatever it is you seek with that woman, you'll have to find yourself. I won't be responsible for sending you to your own grave."

Spider Man frantically stumbled onto his feet and shouted at Batman before he could get too far. "Is it too much to ask for a fucking clue?! Goddammit, man! I'm on my hands and knees here!"

"No," Batman sternly shot back. "Don't call for me again."


The Following Night

Rejection was something Peter was all too familiar with, so being denied any assistance wasn't a surprise to him whatsoever. It did, however, fuel even more rage and frustration to the point where Peter had to force himself to calm down. He needed a break, physically and mentally. He was very aware that he was reaching literally insane levels of obsession with finding Harley, so he spent that next morning and afternoon catching up on all the sleep he'd lost in the past few days. And then after that, he laid in bed all evening, contemplating his life and choices with a freshly rested brain.

Nothing had changed in his heart. It was still aching to see her. To know that she was safe and away from that monstrosity she called her soulmate. Upon deep thought, Peter concluded that his desire for Harley was based on the idea that she is Gotham's greatest tragedy. Joker's saddest victim. When he looked into her eyes, Peter didn't see a murderer. He saw someone who was scared, and desperately clinging onto life the only way she knew how. Her life was a comedy, written, directed, and produced by the Joker himself. And it disgusted Peter to his core. Because at the end of his contemplation, Peter realized that he may not be able to save her. Hell, there was a good chance he may never see her again. It was hard, but these were things he had to tell himself.

No matter how much he wanted to deny them, they were truths that severely affected any possible future for Spider Man's time in Gotham. He learned very early in his career that he couldn't save them all.

Someone would always perish.

A victim would always be in play.

Peter's first love, Gwen, taught him that all too well. And Harley Quinn may just be another catastrophic story used to lullaby ghosts to sleep. So the question became, "Is it worth it to stay in Gotham City to help Harley?"

The question mulled over and over in Peter's head as he tossed and turned on his bed for the hundredth time. Glancing towards the digital clock on the dresser, he looked at the time. "8:37pm" He yawned and reached to turn down the police radio that he had turned on until an interesting distress call came through.

["Requesting back up on sixth and park. Repeat, requesting back up on sixth and park. Gotta 10-76 up towards the south entrance."]

["Affirmative on that request for assistance. Officers are en route to give a hand. Got a description for us?"]

["Couldn't get a clear shot but the suspect appeared to be a slender figure. Most likely female and really acrobatic. She was doing… cartwheels and shit, I don't know, that's all I got."]

Peter shot up from his bed and played the message he just heard over in his head again. "...she was doing cartwheels…" Peter remembered that Harley was known for her gymnastic skills that she used to get the upper hand in combat. It wasn't a solid confirmation it was her, and in fact, it was desperation at its worst. It was barely even a valid lead. But it was the biggest break he'd gotten since he started looking for her.

Peter got up, grabbed his suit, and went to give the officers his help, whether they liked it or not.


Jewelry Store

The crime scene was calm, quiet and uncharacteristic of someone that had ties to the Joker. Hanging upside down from a ledge on one of the taller buildings, Spider Man patiently observed and waited to see if anything would happen. If Harley really was inside, she was oddly quiet and not like her usual flashy and loudmouth self. Three cruisers were parked outside in a sloppy fashion, hinting that the drivers were in a hurry to provide support. Oddly enough, no humans were around. Spider Man hummed in thought, swung closer to the building, and finally landed on its rooftop. From the top, he crawled over into the closest window on the side of the building, and hopped inside.

Darkness invaded the large room. Not a single spec of light was found except for the small rays of moonlight from the windows. Everything was intact and nothing out of place, save for the missing jewelry from the cases of glass. Spider Man grumbled to himself. He didn't know Harley as well as he'd like, but he knew enough to conclude that this wasn't her crime. It wasn't like her or the Joker to go around stealing jewelry. Much less being able to pull it off in such a clean manner. Turning back around to leap out the window, Spider Man paused when he felt a presence. He turned around and looked back into the room to see where he missed the hiding criminal. A soft, seductive voice greeted him from somewhere on the opposite end of the room.

"Was hoping tall, dark, and depressing would come to give me company. Buuut, I suppose we'll make do with you."

Spider-Man squinted his eyes and finally made out the figure that began slowly approaching him. She leisurely strutted toward him, running her fingers along her lethal whip. Her body suit was coated in black patent leather, broken up only by black knee high boots. Sporting a leather mask molded to resemble cat ears, her face was hidden in just the right places so that her trademark smirk could still be seen.

Peter chuckled and let his body go lax. "Sorry, didn't come here for a strip tease. My Uber must've dropped me off at the wrong photoshoot."

Catwoman rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth, annoyed by the insult to her attire. "Aaand so comes another immature pervert to 'patrol' Gotham's streets. Color me surprised."

"You're callin' me the pervert? Really?" Peter dramatically stepped back, pointing to himself. "You're the one standing here ready to do God knows what to me with that whip. Just so you know, BDSM doesn't float my boat, sweetheart."

"Au contraire. Even with that ridiculous mask on, I can see you ogling me down. Careful, sweetheart, you'll strain your neck if you look too hard. If you're not paying attention, I just might-"

Off the cusp of her sentence, Catwoman extended her claws in a flash, feinting at Spider-Man, and took amusement at his flinch. He clenched his teeth in frustration, with no choice but to admit to himself that she was pretty fast and hard to read.

"Oooh," she began shaking her head in disappointment. "You're too easy. Not good, kid. Not in this town. You might wanna crawl back up to your nest where it's safe, and leave the crime-fighting to the adults."

"My record speaks for itself. And if you paid attention in class, you'd know that Gotham is the ugly fat kid, and I'm the bully."

"Mmm. Confident. I like that. You're a little over the top. But, too much is better than too little. We can certainly work with that."

Getting a bit daring, Spider Man stepped forward and got serious. "'We'? Whatever fantasy you've got going on in your head, that's fine. Just remember to pinch yourself awake every now and then, and remind yourself that I could care less about you or anyone else who gets in my way."

"Ouch. Aggressive. Tell me, Spider-Boy, how deep does that aggression go? I'd love to find out."

"Not very good at taking things seriously, I see."

"Not from men like you. To be honest, kid, you scream 'tryhard'. But I'll cut you some slack. Clearly, no one's told you who I am, but if you were here to get in my way, I would know by now. So if you aren't here for me…" Selina paused, looking him up and down.

"Bingo! You have a brain cell! I'm looking for someone else."

"Obviously…" She rolled her eyes even harder.

"You could make yourself useful and gimme a hand."

Catwoman raised her head and crossed her arms. "Depends on who it is and who's asking."

"Not a big fan of teamwork."

"So you work alone. Fair. Now, let's talk price. The deeper their pockets, the deeper the debt for you."

At the mention of money, an idea crossed Spider Man's mind. "How does the price of your freedom sound?" Spider Man confidently walked right up to her, their bodies just a couple of inches apart. "You're still a thief. A criminal all the same, like the rest of the scum that infests this city. I could take you in-"

Catwoman cut off his monologue with a sharp chuckle. "Don't kid yourself, Insect. People dream of touching me. But no one can. Not even Vengeance. And from what I heard, you wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for him."

Peter flinched.

That last bit stung.

Fear of already having his reputation tarnished in Gotham had come true.

Taking advantage of his vulnerability, she brought their figures even closer, bodysuits nearly touching each other. She let her fingers crawl up the back of his arm as she fully invaded his personal space.

"'Take me in'? Don't make me laugh. I'm already too slippery for you. And I haven't even let myself get wet yet..." Selina seductively whispered in his ear. "We understand each other now?"

She waited for a response but only heard his heartbeat pick up as he angrily swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Relaaax. I can tell you're still just a child. Probably just got accepted to some fancy college. Where to? Harvard? Stanford?" Spider Man remained silent as Catwoman continued to roast him. "Nah, you don't seem bright enough for those two. Maybe a community college or trade school? Maybe you even dropped out and chose a life of beating up 'scum' like me to put food on the table." She could hear Spider Man cracking his knuckles as he looked at her in rage. Even with the mask on, it was apparent that her insults were getting to him, which she loved. She enjoyed verbally torturing her opponents.

Catwoman gave a hearty laugh before she finally crossed her arms and cocked her hips. "Look, kid. You're young and dumb. So I'll pretend like you didn't just threaten me a minute ago. Also," she gently traced her fingers along the white logo of his suit, "there's something about you. Something that makes it hard for me to stay upset at you. Like a dog that craps everywhere, but you give him a bone anyway just 'cause he's too stupid and innocent. And I usually hate dogs, but I'll make an exception for you."

A genuine smile crossed her face as she looked into the indigo eye panels of his mask as she anticipated his response. Immediately, he removed himself from her proximity, turned around and walked to one of the windows in the room. He leaned against it with one arm and took a deep breath.

"There's someone I met here. Someone I want to help. I can't find her, so if you have any information… I could use it."

Catwoman shrugged and replied, "Fine. I'll bite. What's her name?"

Spider-Man glanced back at her for a second, then immediately to the ground, almost embarrassed to speak the name of the woman on his mind. "Harley Quinn," he finally blurted out.

Letting a chuckle escape from her lips, Catwoman sighed and walked back next to Spider Man. "Aaand, humorous. Hmph. It's good for a man to be able to make a girl laugh. But c'mon now, the night's young and I have lots to do. What's her name?"

"I'm not trying to be funny. Alright? I don't give a damn about making you laugh. I just told you her name," Spider Man spat, irritated towards her attitude. Catwoman burned holes into Spider Man's skull as she stared at him, completely appalled.

She took a couple of steps back with her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God. You're serious."

Just then, more sirens could be heard pulling up outside, followed by a large searchlight flashing into the window from below. The two vigilantes both looked at each other at the same time, but Catwoman was the first to turn around and bolt.

"Yo! Wait up!" Shouted Spider Man. "We're not done here!"

"You wanna talk? See if you can keep up," Catwoman shouted as she dove out the window and disappeared into the night.

Leaning his body out the window frame, he scanned the area to locate her, but the sounds of radio chatter and footsteps rushing up to the room let him know it was time to do the same. He leaped out and onto the next building, crawling up to the rooftop as swiftly as he could. Not too long after, he spotted Catwoman using her parkour skills to seemingly fly across the rooftops in a graceful fashion. Spider Man planted his feet, took a deep breath, and sped after her. He stayed on the rooftops, abandoning the web slinging for the moment so that the GCPD wouldn't mistake him for being at the crime scene.

Now with only a couple of buildings between him and his informant, Spider Man used his enhanced jumping to soar in the sky and land a few feet behind her. While still running, she looked over shoulder, winked at him, and motioned for him to continue to follow her.

After a few more minutes of making sure they were in the clear, the two arrived at Catwoman's apartment. Nothing too fancy. It was a smaller apartment limited to one bedroom and bathroom. Just enough room for her and her multitude of cats that took up residence with her.

One of those cats was outside the door, a chubby boy who was eager to see his owner arrive, but not so much for the unexpected guest. The two of them came to a stop in front of the door, pausing for a moment as Catwoman got her keys. Chubby hissed at Peter's presence.

"Aww, it's okay, Mr. Fatty. He's a friend."

He hissed at Peter again, ignoring his owner's reassurance.

Peter crossed his arms as Catwoman unlocked the door. "It's cool. More of a dog kinda guy anyway."

She paused halfway through opening the door, glaring back at him over her shoulder. All that was needed was the daggers digging into his soul through her eyes, no words to say what she thought of what he said. Peter threw his hands up in surrender.

"It was a joke." She didn't budge, slanting her eyes even more. "It was a joke! C'mon!"

Still silent, Catwoman fully opened the door and beckoned Spider-Man in. Inside, the apartment was moderately furnished and she certainly didn't hold back on the comfort-ware. There were multiple sofas, rugs of various colors, neons, and other things that contributed to the cozy vibe of her home.

"Take a seat," she commanded as she loosened her whip and took it off. Peter did as he was told and watched her go straight for the kitchen. "Indulge me in a drink?" Lifting two different bottles of wine, one red, the other white, she non-verbally asked him what he preferred.

"Uh, I was actually hoping we could, y'know, just cut to the chase."

Catwoman squinted her eyes and closed the cabinet door without looking away. "One more time, hun."

"Huh?"

"I didn't hear you."

"Oh," Peter shifted his weight and awkwardly straightened his back a bit. "I was saying, w-we should just cut to the chase."

There it was. Just what she was looking for - his shift in persona. Through his stutters and odd posture, Catwoman sensed a different side to Spider-Man that maybe he hadn't fully mastered covering up. And she was beyond eager to exploit that.

Strutting out from the kitchen, she approached the living room as Peter continued. "Y'know, I'm sure you're busy so-"

"I'm not busy," she quickly corrected. "As a matter of fact," she purred, taking a seat on the glass table in front of the sofa, "I have aaall night to do whatever I want."

Taking her gloved hands, she reached up under her mask and took it off, letting it fold back and dangle on her back. Peter would be lying if he said she wasn't a beautiful woman. And here he was, alone with her, in the last place he'd expected to discuss business with - the woman's own home. He'd caught a glimpse of it before, but now, he could see the full extent of her bronze skin, freed from the confines of her mask. Short black hair sat on her head.

Trying to ignore his racing heart beat, Spider-Man looked off to the side, anywhere but at her, and reiterated himself. "Sure, that's cool, but I'm a little busy myself, so I ju-"

"What's the rush? And what happened to all that cocky talk you oozed back at the store? Didn't you say you wanted to 'take me in'? Well, here I am. I'm all yours." From the lip of the table, Catwoman leaned over and into him, one hand resting on her knee, and the other hand fiddling with the zipper on her bodysuit.

Slowly trailing the zipper down, she revealed more hidden bronze to gleam in the neon lights from her decorations along the wall. Even with his mask still on, Catwoman swore she could see Spider-Man fighting with his own eyes, darting everywhere, just to end back up on her cleavage.

Clearing his throat, he struggled to steer the conversation... anywhere but where his mind feared Catwoman desired. "If you're all mine, then tell me what I wanna know. Where can I find Harley Quinn?" Peter couldn't help but honor the habitual manners he was taught, and finished his demand with an out of pocket "Please."

Abandoning the zipper that teased just below her belly button, she was satisfied with his answer, and stood up straight to look down on him. "That's more like it."

Walking past the sofa, she raised her voice to accommodate herself as she disappeared into the back of the apartment to change. "So. You wanna hotline on the Queen of Gotham, huh?"

"She's not really a Queen. That's just a name. Right? Or does Gotham have some sort of old school monarchy kinda thing goin' on? Seems like the architecture really speaks to that." For a few seconds, his comical approach went unreciprocated. Only rustling and shuffling was heard by the door as Peter turned his head over the sofa.

Eventually, she spoke back up. "Just how much do you know about the Joker and Harley?" Peter opened his mouth to speak until she cut him off right after. "-Because, asking about those two could get you hurt y'know. You're lucky you came to me. Spiders don't have nine lives."

"Guess so. Batman was useless."

Catwoman immediately poked her head out from her bedroom, a mischievous smirk on her face. "Ohhh, so you met Vengeance? Did he... say anything about me?"

"No." Peter deadpanned. She pouted and sucked her head back into her room. "What's up, you know him?"

"Veeery much."

"Huh. Guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean... not like that. I-I meant, you both have sort of a similar kinda thing goin' on here. Y'know with the all over black..." The light padding of bare feet came up behind him and he turned around to see Catwoman in a black robe, crossing her arms at him. "...And the pointy ears."

Selina planted herself on the loveseat across the table from him and helped herself to some of the wine she poured earlier. It was odd how comfortable she was in front of him. Borderline insulting, in fact. Maybe she certainly lived by what she told him earlier, and had no fear of Spider-Man, or even the feats he'd already accomplished in Gotham.

Here she was, some sort of vigilante just like him, barely paying attention to him fully dressed and fully capable as Spider-Man. Bouncing his knee up and down, he continued the conversation along.

"Gonna take an educated guess and say you're his sidekick."

"'Sidekick'? You better watch your mouth in my house. If anyone's wearing the pants in Gotham, it's me. Every now and then, maybe, I'll let Vengeance play dress up and put the pants on. But they're just too big for him, so he stays in his pull-ups."

"'Kay, sooo... he's your partner?"

"You could say that. In crime fighting, yes. Aaand in... other things too."

Peter awkwardly nodded his head, unamused by the innuendo. "Yep, right… um, so…"

She repeated her question from earlier. "-So. How much do you know?"

"About Harley? I've got the basics." He wanted to elaborate. That he knew that the Joker treated her like a dog.

Selina nodded her head and tapped her glass repeatedly with her finger. "I'm asking because I'm genuinely curious why you're looking for her. 'Cause, that's a very odd choice for someone to help."

"I-I know it is, but it's... it's complicated."

Selina shrugged her shoulders. "What's so complicated about it? Just tell me why you want to help her."

Peter sat up, cupping his gloved hands around his chin. "...I don't have to tell you why. It's personal. To me."

Not the answer she was looking for. Like a classic cat, Selina couldn't help but be curious. Why was he so reluctant? Was it... was he embarrassed? A hint of it could be heard in his voice. If he was embarrassed, what would be the reason?

Continuing to tap her finger in thought, Selina bit her lips as she thought of what to say next. A theory was rolling around in her mind. She just needed a way to prove it. Aha. That's when an idea came to mind. It would involve a little manipulation. But it'd be worth it in her eyes.

Out of her robe pocket, Selina fished a thumbdrive, and held it up in her fingers. "I'll tell you what I got. If you do me one favor."

Peter ran his hands across his thighs and slapped them. "Guess that was part of the deal. 'Kay. What's the favor?"

"Take your mask off for me."

"What?"

She could ask for deeds. Force his hand to make him do whatever she wanted. But she found her hunch more important, and wanted to follow it. She was good, but there was only so much she could do without studying his expressions.

"Yeah, I don't think that's a fair trade."

"It most certainly is," she confidently rebutted, twirling the device in her fingers. "This puppy is a direct feed into the GCPD Database. Brand new. Not even put into protocol yet. Everything on every criminal on the block. Even Vengeance dipped his toes into making this beauty. 'Specially since he and Gordon are pretty much doing each other's laundry. You wanna trace Harley and Joker's exact movements, this'll help you do it. There's just one catch."

Peter picked his head up in curiosity.

"You've got about thirty seconds before the GCPD catches onto your signal. Hope your laptop is up to snuff. Might have to close a couple of your Pornhub tabs to keep your computer from crashing."

Reaching over the glass table, Peter snatched the device from her hand. "You're a charmer."

"Oh, believe me hun, I know." Standing up, she walked over and planted herself next to him on the sofa, getting too close and invading his space. Black painted nails trailed up the sides of his mask, urging him to take it off. "Now... about your debt."

Peter wasted no time. He grabbed the back of his mask, and yanked it off with one tug, surprising Selina with his lack of hesitation. Her eyebrows ascended as she looked at the young, but clearly mentally exhausted face before her. His eyes said everything she needed to know, and her look of surprise was swiftly substituted with one of content.

"Ohhh, look at you. You are a baby. You do know Harley's probably got ten years on you? Right?"

Reeling back from the comment, Peter questioned, "Why does that matter?"

"Come now, don't play dumb. It's written aaaall over your face. You're in love with her."*

"I'm not in love with her."

Amused, Catwoman took the last drop of her drink and set it down on the table. "If it's not love, it's definitely something in that ballpark. But. I'm pretty confident in my assessment. I'm never wrong."

"Might wanna check yourself, 'cause I think you are."

"Am I now?" She asked, shifting her legs from one side of the loveseat to the other. "Do me another favor and tell me something. What was her name?"

"What? Who's name?"

"C'mon, it's clear this isn't your first rodeo. The name of your first love."

A nerve was struck.

Spider Man quickly shook his head, not wanting to dig up old bones that he spent so long burying. "I'm not. What does this have to do with Harley?"

"It has everything to do with her. You know why? Because you're comparing Harley to her."

How was this woman so good at reading him anyway? Experience perhaps, Peter told himself. But still. How did she know he'd been comparing Harley to his interest from the distant past? Peter reasoned Gotham was far enough from NYC, so he answered her. He stuttered out her name, uncharacteristic of the calloused warrior he forced himself to become. Or at least what he secretly wanted people to see him as.

"Her name was Gwen Stacy..."

It was the first time he said her name in years.

His high school crush.

His first love.

His only love.

It was one of the factors that made him become who he was now. They say that misery loves company, so maybe that's why Catwoman pushed so deep into Spider Man's heart. She definitely wasn't happy with her circumstances, like every other person living in this God forsaken city. But she got a pleasant surprise tonight. A breath of fresh air that wore a skin tight all black suit with spiders on it.

She gently shook Spider Man's thigh to snap him out of his trance of thought. "She's beautiful. I can see her through your voice."

"She's also long gone," Spider Man droned, standing back up, and removing Gwen from the conversation as fast as she entered. "I appreciate this."

"Leaving already? Aww. Well, thanks for stopping by. My door's always open if you ever wanna talk. I mean it." Only silence was given to her as Peter made his way toward the front door. "Hey wait!" Spider Man paused and turned around. "You have to promise me that this isn't some sort of crusade, hun. I don't know why you fell in love with Harley Quinn, but if it's because you want to 'rescue' her, or 'save' her from herself or the Joker, that's impossible. She's faaar past long gone."

Peter turned around, clenching his fist, his mind runamuck with images of both Gwen and Harley. "Don't waste your breath. I'll decide what's possible and what's not."


Club Diamond

Everything was just like Spider Man had been warned. The east coast redlight district, especially Joker's place, Club Diamond, was a fortress in disguise. It was one of many of the Joker's colossal penthouses used for clubbing and conducting underground affairs.

Even in the middle of the night, henchmen were up and patrolling the area, some snipers even camping out on the roofs of the bright skyscrapers. The penthouse itself was beaming with multicolored lights coming from its expansive glass windows.

Muffled loud music shook the streets with its bass, and corrupt celebrities and delinquents alike were constantly heading in and out of the building. Despite the heavy security, Spider Man made it to the building by crawling from shadow to shadow with ease. He had no particular plan or set of actions to take for his intrusion.

All he wanted was just to see Harley again, and ensure she was alive. He didn't need Catwoman lecturing him again to know that pulling any sort of move was a dangerous gamble.

For sure though, he mulled, he would have to come back with a fully fledged plan to… save Harley? Talk to her? Make her experience some sort of come to Jesus moment?

What would he even say?

What would he even do?

Spider-Man's dangerous surroundings gave him little time to contemplate. A guard was getting close to his current hiding spot, and he had to move. Even with his black suit on, he couldn't rely on the shadows forever. Sticking to the wall of the clubhouse, he briskly ran up the side and vaulted onto the roof.

"What was that?" A soldier asked and turned to the spot where Spider Man no longer was.

"What was what," his partner returned.

Spider Man leaned over the edge and watched as the guards below scanned the area. That was too close a call. Spider Man crawled across the roof, peeking through the glass in the skylights from the rooms. He came across one especially large skylight toward the back of the building, and peeked his head through.

His blood ran cold.

As luck would have it, Peter found exactly what he was looking for just below him. The psychotic couple. The woman that wanted to pump his throat with lead. The woman that haunted him. The woman that he wanted to love so badly. And next to her, the bastard that took her for granted.

She was wrapped up in his arms, her head snuggled into the crook of his neck. Their bed was massive in the large room - A circular bed dressed with silk sheets and weapons lying about. It was almost adorable how they seemingly fit each other so well.

Matching striped pajamas draped their bodies, and the both of them had a twisted grin on their face as they rested. The many windows in the walls let moonlight shine through and cascade them with its rays.

Not sure if they were sleeping or not, Spider Man opened one of the panes, hung upside down and carefully lowered himself into the building, just several feet above them. Boiling blood began to course through his veins as he thought back to the smile Joker had as he assaulted her that night.

Half of Peter wanted to jump down and pummel his face relentlessly until it was nothing more than a pile of bloody flesh. And the other half of him wanted to take the woman in his arms and kiss away all the bruises that her abuser gave to her. One day, he hoped to be able to do exactly that. In the meantime, he would need more of a strategy to contact Harley.

An idea popped in his head. One that would put him right in the lion's den, but if he wanted her, sacrifices had to be made.

And he knew the perfect place to carry his plan...

Snapping out of his thoughts, Spider Man immediately halted his descent. The Joker rustled in his bed and cleared his throat.

Unfortunately for Peter, he couldn't see that the Joker also was aware of his presence, slowly peeking his left eye open. Harley felt light vibrations coming from the Joker's chest. At first, she didn't think much of it. But when those vibrations transitioned into chuckles, she realized he was laughing. But about what? She opened her tired eyes and looked at her man staring up at the ceiling.

"Ooooh, I should've known better!" Those words hissed out through unsettling giggles. "Hee, hee, hah! I should've knooown better!"

Harley squinted her eyes in confusion, wondering what he was babbling about. "Puddin'? What's wrong?"

The Joker's deep bedtime voice was eerie and jagged, just like a bad cassette player. "I should've known... to kill a bug... you gotta make SURE it's dead." His voice dropped to a disturbingly low tone. "Poison won't cut it. Ya gotta squash the damn thing."

Spider Man couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but he remained above them, quiet as the faint breeze that flowed through the room.

Harley paused to think for a second, mulling over her lover's words. That's when it hit her. Of course. There was an intruder, and worst of all, it had to be... "He's here, ain't he?"

She didn't need a direct answer. Not when the moon had given her a clue, with it's light bouncing off the lens of Spider-Man's mask. Quietly and carefully, Harley reached for one of the plethora of guns they had surrounding their mattress. Since it was clear that Spider-Man didn't know they were aware of him, she figured she could use the element of surprise, and shoot him down before he knew it.

The Joker took a different approach.

In a flash, he swiped the gun from Harley and shot it at Spider Man. Peter's heart skipped a beat and he used his web to shoot himself up and out of the building through the roof. Joker looked at his gun. Instead of smoke, there was only a comical "BANG" gag coming out of the barrel.

"AGH! HARLEEEY!" Joker fumed, blaming the prop gun on her, of course.

Her lover used the toy gun to pistol whip her out of bed. He sunk into his slippers and commanded for his troops outside to move out. "Goddammit, you buffoons! Who let my house get infected? Get your thumbs outta your ass and FIND ME THAT SPIDER!"

A sad gaze plastered Harley's face as she lay on the floor and watched the Joker scramble away in a blind fury. Then she looked back up into the hole Spider-Man came from and wondered why he was there in the first place.


A Couple of Days Later

One of Harley's favorite pastimes was polishing the barrel of all her weapons. Guns from all different types were proudly displayed in her room, and each one was hand customized by her. Colorful designs, trinkets, and even mechanical upgrades were equipped on all of them, of course, for performance, but also to ensure no one mistook their gun for hers, lest they be blown away by it.

The days had been slow, even with security on high alert, especially since Spider-Man intruded the warehouse. Harley put down her shimmy, and proudly held her gold-plated Desert Eagle to the light. No doubt, it was her favorite hand cannon due to its rarity and power, and despite how many times she cleaned it, she could never bring herself to use it.

Of course, she did basic target practice with the weapon, but she never shot somebody with it. She didn't want to fathom tainting its perfect finish with blood splattered from her victim. She set it down on her workbench and moved over towards her Chiappa that was laid out toward the edge of the table. She scrunched her nose up at it. Not because of its terrible condition, but because of the significance it held in recent memory. It was the same gun she used to threaten Spider-Man those many nights ago.

"Fuckin' Spider-Man."

She hated the thought of him. Her lover was always on the edge of his seat since he invaded their home, and it frustrated Harley. Ever since he arrived in Gotham, he'd been causing nothing but trouble, and Harley wanted him dead and gone. The conversation between her and Spider Man came to her mind again.

" He doesn't love you."

Who was this man and why did he think he knew what was best for Harley? Why did he even care? She took the gun in her hands and her face of disgust grew even more. Indeed, the gun meant a lot to her. Its poor condition was due to its extended time of use. In fact, it was Harley's first gun she used since she decided to join the Joker. But every time she looked at it, she couldn't help but be reminded of the black clad hero that troubled her life. She tossed the gun to the ground, grabbed her mallet, and destroyed the weapon with one heavy swing.

"The hell is all that noise for, Harley?!" Joker shouted, hustling into the room. He was in the middle of getting dressed.

Harley dropped the handle to her mallet and let it clang to the floor. She put her hands on her shoulders and responded, "It's nothin'. Where ya goin'?"

"Ain't your business. My boys have word from the street that explains why the Spider came to visit." The Joker paused buttoning up his shirt and moved closer to Harley in an intimidating manner. He squinted his eyes and said, "Spider Man's been looking for you. I don't know why, but until I do, you're staying right here."

"The hell I am!" She protested.

"Be quiet, and do as I say! NO ONE lays a finger on you but ME! Not the Bat, not the GCPD, and definitely not that damned Spider Man!" He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to sit on the bed. "Now be a good girl and stay put!"

Harley knocked away his arms and stood back up in his face. "Nu-unh! What happened to us?! To bein' a frickin' team?! Wherever my Puddin' goes, I go too! I ain't scared'a no Spider!"

Joker grabbed his green hair and tried his best to contain his anger at her. "HARLEY! Do you want me to break your damn legs so that you have NO CHOICE but to stay here?!"

"Boss, we're ready to go." One of the henchmen said as he peeked his head into their room.

Joker nodded and looked back to Harley with a twisted smile. "Daddy will become back to take care of you later. Don't think of it as me grounding you. Treat it like a staycation, hmm?"

She turned her head to the side, her side twin ponytails swinging. "Whatever. Go get yourself smoked. See if I care."

"Aww, I knew you loved me." He planted a sloppy kiss on her cheeks and swept away his smile to make room for a deadly glare, one that she had seen too many times lately. "Don't make me regret it."

"Regret what?" She dared to ask, her own frustration seeping through her submission.

"Everything. Stay right here. And don't fuck up."


Later that Night

Steam coated the windows of the Batmobile. Inside, Catwoman lay with her back arched against Batman's erection, fighting with all she had to get her breath back in order. The intense wave of pleasure washed over her, and her eyesight was granted to her again. The Gotham Knight's infamous hands were clearly not just useful for crushing skulls, but for crushing that built up sexual tension between the two vigilantes as well. Batman wiped her wetness off his fingers, onto the fabric of her panties, then zipped her up and rested his hand in between her thighs.

"We need to stop meeting like this," he panted in her ear.

Giggling softly to herself, she shifted off of his crotch and laid herself across his muscular thighs. "I agree. The Batmobile is too cramped, got a girl feelin' all constricted. Hmm, let's go somewhere we can stretch our arms… legs… and other parts…" she said, referring to his erection that poked into her side. She reached to take hold of it, but he stopped her.

"We've done enough."

Sighing with content, she laid back and replied, "You've let me get to know every spot of this fine body, 'cept that face." She reached up and traced her fingers along his jawline. "When are you gonna give a gal a break?"

"When are you going to give up your old habits? Thievery? Lying? Manipulation?"

"As soon as I get tired of it. And I don't see that happening for a long time." Her stubbornness got the best of her again, and she carefully tucked her fingers into his suit to try and pull his mask away.

"The mask isn't coming off, Selena."

"No fair," she whined. "How come you get to call me by my name, but don't offer the same privilege to me?" Ignoring his wishes, she reached in between and grabbed a hold of him. "You have no idea how I've ached to scream your name. I've only guessed what it might be? A household name liiike, John? Paul? Matthew? How about something refined, like Wade or Darius? Something… a bit more mysterious? Maybe… Bruce ?"

His face remained still, but inside, his mind was racing, demanding he not give himself away by letting his breathing increase.

Catwoman smirked at him and slightly shook her head. "Mmm. Maybe not. Doesn't quite fit you. But one day, you'll tell me. Not just your name, but everything ."

Dammit, Selina was good. Too good, even for Batman's sake. He clenched his jaw and remained silent, only allowing himself to carefully swallow. Batman sat up and started the Batmobile's engine. "That's enough for tonight. You should go."

"Oh, learn to relaaax, honey. It's another quiet night."

"Exactly. It's too quiet."

"We could fix that, you know. Just keep the windows down for all of Gotham to hear."

"I'm serious, Selina."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. I know, because you are all the damn time. When was the last time you could hear crickets at this time of night? Hmm? You should enjoy this while it lasts. Especially since that Spider kid is still swingin' his webs around here. He'll do all the work for you."

"That's another point of concern. Spider-Man has been M.I.A."

"Aaand? Either he's dead in a sewer or he crawled back into his nest. Wherever the hell that is. Big deal. Why do you care anyway? Lookin' to take him under your wing? Pun intended, by the way."

"Absolutely not. I'm merely curious as to why his bouts of violence stopped so suddenly."

Catwoman chuckled. "C'mon, now, he's still a naive boy. Angry at the world with nothing to do but to cry and bitch about it. He's probably too busy jerking off to Harley Quinn to worry about crime."

Batman narrowed his eyes to her. "What do you know about his involvement with Quinn?"

"What do you know?" Firing the question back at him, she studied his expression and took the opportunity to tease him instead. "Oooh, I love it when you get that look. Means something juicy is about to go down. When's the last time we had some real drama here in Gotham?"

Batman looked away, grunted, and sped away from their hidden love spot. As much as they both faked not caring about the whereabouts of Spider-Man, they were equally concerned that nobody had seen him for a few days. Where could he be, and what was he up to?

Especially after everything Spider-Man confided in them, they were confident that the young vigilante was either deep in trouble or deep under a headstone.


The Following Night

Gotham City Subway

Rusted train tracks creaked and groaned out loud in the echo of the late night subway. It was nearly empty as usual. Crimes reported in Gotham subways at night were rising quickly, and no one was desperate enough to risk their lives by getting on them. Not unless they were looking for trouble. Case in point, a group of thugs hiding in the shadows, barely illuminated by the greenish flickering light coming from the domes on the ceiling. It was obvious that they belonged to the Joker, thanks to their novelty animal masks.

They lounged around the stairs, as if it was their own living room, some even lying on the disgusting tiled floor to catch some sleep. They knew that their squad boss, Veck, wouldn't care. He never did. Veck only did what he was told, and that was to recruit more fodder for the Joker's crime machine.

Eerily rocking side to side, the train stuttered to a stop and opened its doors for any passengers that dared to embark on its unsettling journey. For a while, the doors remained open. It was oddly more quiet than usual. Mist wrapped the area with a light coat of smoke, which did not help ease the nerves of the thugs. No one would say it, but they were definitely expecting Batman to rise from those shadows at any moment.

"Say, Veck, let's bounce. Somethin' ain't ri-"

"Shutup." Veck commanded. Patience paid off and a smirk crossed the squad boss's face. "We gotta live one, boys," he croaked out in his low groggy voice.

A young man, dressed in all black with a hoodie over his hair, trudged onto the train in full view of the thugs. On command, they all got up and followed as swiftly as they could before the train could close its doors. Swiping his thumb across his lips, Veck smiled as he studied the area.

It was almost too convenient.

No one else was around except for the poor sap they were about to recruit. Even the shoddy lights on the train were dimmed low due to its age, letting in extra darkness so that no one could see the violence should their victim choose to resist. Veck adjusted the collar on his black bomber, and slowly paced forward. Their prey was sitting at the very front seat to the right, completely distracted while he tightened the trucks on his skateboard.

"Nice wheels you got there. How 'bout an upgrade? Who needs skateboards when you can have any car you want? I know someone who could hook you up."

Their victim looked up, eyes barely visible from the hoodie and hair drooping across his face. "Nah, thanks. I like getting around on my board."

Veck chuckled and looked back towards his boys. As soon as he turned back around, he kicked the skateboard out of his hand and pulled the man up by his shirt.

"Imma get to the point here. Joker's been looking for some handymen. I think you'd make a good candidate."

From the violent shaking, the hood came off.

It was Peter himself, unphased by the threat.

"The Joker? Heh. Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"Quit the games, kid." One of the thugs in the back said, running his thumb over his machete. "Joker ain't taking 'no' for an answer. Unless you planned on taking the train to Hell today."

Little did they know that Peter was already in Hell, and they were playing right into his own trap.

"Who said anything about saying 'no'?" Peter smiled, one eerie enough to rival the Clown Prince himself. "I'm a big fan of the Joker."