This chapter and the next marks the end of the first half of this fic. I went ahead and posted them both because, I'll be real, these next two chapters are probably gonna make a lot of people nope out of the story. If you've been hate reading this story and haven't liked what you've read so far, I'll just save you the trouble and ask that you please not read this fic here on out.

If you've enjoyed the story so far, thanks for your time.


Blue waves crackled through the mist, illuminated by the pool's bright lights. Taking his toes, Peter traced shapes into the water as he sat against the edge of the pool. It was a serene scene. A couple of hours past midnight, and a comforting aura of warm and cool provided from the nightly breeze and the temperature of the pool respectively. His Spider-Sense alerted him to somebody approaching, and just seconds later, he could hear bare feet getting closer behind him.

"Couldn't sleep either, eh?" It was Veck, letting out an exhausted sigh as he took a seat next to Peter.

Peter shook his head, frowning up his lips. "Nah. Got too much riding on tonight." It was all he could think about since he left the Joker's "castle."

Veck nodded, looking out towards the end of the pool. "There's a lot riding on this. You're damn right. I know how you feel. Just hope I'm the one who gets to give it to Two-Face. Y'know, for all the shit he's been causin' us?" Peter gave Veck his full attention, turning his head toward him. "Thought things would be easier since we took Penguin out of the picture, since we'd only have one other gang to worry 'bout besides two." He reached in his pocket for a cigarette and chuckled. "Guess I was bein' optimistic."

"Think the Boss'll promote you? If you kill Two-Face?"

"Maybe, then again, no one's ever got close enough to him to truly be his right hand. That spot was always Harley. I've seen a couple of guys get close, but they'd end up bitin' a bullet beforehand." Veck gave a smirk, turning to Peter. "Maybe I'll get lucky, and be the Joker's first proper lieutenant."

The Joker's right hand? At what cost? Murder? Peter couldn't afford that. The last ounce of morale he had in his heart would prevent him doing so. But he knew he could only get so close to her before that morale was truly challenged. How close was it gonna be? Running a tired hand over his brow, Peter felt comfortable enough to ask a question he wanted answered since the beginning of his vigilante career, way back when he first donned his mask. At first, somewhere in the deep trenches of his past, he had his answer. He had his motivation, his purpose. And all of that was taken from him like the snap of his finger. Now, though, despite Harley being his main motivation, he needed another answer. Another excuse for being the unstable monster he knew he was becoming. Maybe, whatever Veck's answer was, maybe it could give him insight to his own personal dilemma regarding his commitment to Harley Quinn.

"Veck? How did we get to this point? I mean, why do we do the things we do?"

"Serious? C'mon, Ben. You should know. It's cause, what else are we gonna do? We have nothing else to live for."

Peter found himself in the same boat. The same defeated philosophy of where one has lost all, so why not risk whatever is left? Even though Peter and his affiliates didn't share the same goals, maybe they weren't so different after all. He had come to Gotham on the verge of suicide, seeing no point in moving on with neither his life, or Spider-Man's life. It was here, in Gotham, that he searched for a last resort. Something to keep him going. A reason to not throw in the towel. And he found it. He found her. And all her insanity. Even so, sometimes, Peter asked himself if it was really Harley Quinn herself that gave him hope? Or was it the idea that he would be able to save someone so far gone? A true test of his hero capabilities.

Veck studied Peter's contemplation and flicked his thumb over his nose. "I ever tell ya how the Joker saved my life?" Ceasing his thoughts, Peter looked at Veck and shook his head. "I was doin' a long ass sentence in the penitentiary for a mall robbery gone wrong, and I'd gotten the shit end of the stick. Funny enough, that jail was so awful that I was able to break out pretty easily. I was on the street that night, and got into it with some thugs on the way to my old lady's place." Veck shook his head. "Wrong place, wrong time. They were Penguin's boys. Back when Penguin had the top spot in Gotham, and Joker was catching up to him. They beat the shit outta me. Then, I see these guys with fucking zoo animal masks come outta nowhere. Right behind them? It was Joker himself. They took me in, and my life ain't been the same since. I owe it all to that crazy son of a bitch. Batman ain't the one who saved me, or any other of these fools in tights. It was the Joker." Veck stood up, patting Peter's shoulder as he got ready to leave. "Never question who you are. Never feel ashamed about it. I could never go back to being a 'law-abiding citizen' or whatever. And I don't know your whole story. But, somethin' tells me, you didn't have much of a choice. Just like I didn't."

With that, Veck left Peter to himself again, alone with the mist, breeze, and myriad of conflicting thoughts about the man he was shaping out to be. And whether he should be proud of it or not.

What had he gotten himself into?


Sweat dripped from the hands of the Joker's soldiers that were ready to go to war with Two Face's army. The elevator was dank, dingy, and reeked from the bodies that clunked against one another as the machine descended into the lower levels of the penthouse. Peter stood confident in the corner, resting comfortably underneath the flickering hazy light that was fastened onto the ceiling. Everyone knew what tonight meant. There was no mistaking its significance for the Joker's plan on keeping a vice grip on Gotham's underworld. Unfortunately, it also meant that sacrifices would have to be made. Sacrifices in the form of young men who were forced at point blank range, rather through gun, knife, and other forms of recruitment through fear.

Most of them were either insane, or mentally conditioned to become insane enough to be willing to die on the Joker's behalf. They would be glad to go out with a bang in the form of a ruthless bloodbath between the two rival gangs. For Peter, he hoped it would mean just one step closer to connecting with Harley Quinn. If he kept up the facade, he wondered how close he could get to her and how long it would take. No matter what though, his near brush with death last night taught him that gaining Harley's trust was top priority. Not just spending time with her, like he wanted before. But trust was key. And he'd get it tonight. Some way. Some how. He'd get it. He had to.

"Who's the scrub?" A much older slab of muscle muttered, calling out Peter. Another thug laughed and replied. "Looks just as paper thin as the tissue I used to wipe my ass just now. Joker must be really getting desperate by recruiting all these young, scrawny, useless fucks." The lackey next to Peter looked him up and joined in on the dogpile. "Shit's gonna have our gang lookin' like a fuckin' boy band if chumps like him are the future for us."

Veck laughed and stepped up to the front, ready for the doors to open as the elevator stopped. "I'd watch your fuckin' mouth if I were you. That's our Ben."

"What the?! The Benjamin?! 'Benny Badass'?! Oh, my bad! I just thought you'd have little more meat on your bones."

"'Benny Badass?!'" Peter cringed, saying the name for himself out loud. "Wish someone would've got my approval before they coined that. It's kinda lame."

"Dude, I only heard about you through stories, and I could barely see you in that video busting up Batman. Had nooo idea you were him, man! Honest to God!"

"Yeah, it's all love, homie."

Peter ignored them all and remained silent, letting the shadows of the elevator keep his mischievous grin hidden, only slightly illuminated by the light above him. Finally opening its doors, the elevator allowed its users to exit into the stock room, where about fifty more thugs were already suiting up and getting ready for the heist. Veck signaled for Peter to come over to a stash of weapons. There were four tables, each smothered with magazine clips, scopes, and other accessories that complimented their automatic weapons. Assault rifles, SMGs, and shotguns of all types were fastened to just about every free space on every wall.

"Pick your poison," Veck commanded.

Peter looked around and was dissatisfied with his options. He hated guns for obvious reasons and he vowed a long time ago that he would never use one. So instead, Peter trudged around to see if he had any other options. Stumbling across an old bucket of junk, he kicked it over with his foot and got a look at its contents.

"What's all this?" Peter asked.

"Just some random shit we take from whoever we waste on the street," the nearest thug clarified to him.

Peter used the tip of his sneaker to sift through the junk, and finally came across something that suited his style. The object of interest was a pair of spiked brass knuckles. There were four spikes on each article and every spike protruded at least an inch in length. On the left pair, the index spike was chipped but besides that, the weapons were in pristine condition, save for the stained blood that decorated its gold finish. Peter mulled over in his head, thinking about the unfortunate victim that fell prey to the very weapons he was holding. If he had it his way, Peter would go without any weapons at all, but he knew he had to use something in order to please the thugs. Though, it wasn't like Peter was totally bare bones. Before he had come along, Peter tucked his web shooters into the back pocket of his jeans. It was the first time he'd taken any part of Spider-Man with him throughout his venture as a thug. But if it was true that Two-Face and his crime force were, indeed, even more tactical and capable than the Joker's men, Peter needed insurance.

Veck walked up to Peter, chuckling as he fastened his sawed off shotgun to his back. "You're gonna use those to take on men that'll have more firepower than the Navy Seals?"

Peter confidently held his head up, and fastened the knuckles onto his fingers. "A bullet is too quick. Besides, I'm a sucker for hand-to-hand."

"You're the master." Veck rolled his eyes and held out his hand to Peter. In Veck's palm was a black cylindrical object that had a bunch of wires jumbled around it.

"What's that?" Peter asked, though, already knew what it was. A miniature camera. He'd worked with technology so long, he could of course figure out the details already. What he couldn't figure out was why it was propositioned to him.

"Body cam. Boss's orders."

Peter made it a point to dramatically swing his head left and right, glazing over his fellow soldiers that lacked body cams. "Don't see anyone else with one. What makes me so special."

"Guess the Boss wants to see for himself your little magic tricks up close. Don't ask why. Just told me to tell you to put this on. So do it."

Peter didn't like this. This opened up more questions than need be. If there was a body cam, that means that there was a possibility that the footage could be fed live to a server. And if there was a server, there was a person managing and hosting it. The Joker most likely. Was this his excuse for not being present for his own heist? Peter's thoughts took him down this road even further, a slight tinge of panic crawling down his spine. Did this also mean that the Joker had this planned out? Did he suspect Peter being someone else? Someone like Spider-Man, the vigilante that disappeared right around the time that "Benny Badass" was recruited? This was a test. Or maybe it wasn't. Or maybe...

"Ben. You still there?"

Peter blinked away the thoughts in his eyes and nodded. He instinctively took the body cam in Veck's hand.

"Zoned out on me there. C'mon now, man, now's not the time to get butterflies. Just put this shit on and line up."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Plan B. Peter would have to disable the cam before he did any maneuvers that could give himself away. Yeah, that could work, he thought. Hell, he could even fall down on it hard enough to disable it if need be. But upon closer inspection, it looked military grade - made out of bulletproof material and all. Shit. Maybe it wouldn't be so easy to disable it after all. Plan C. He could find a way to interrupt the signal. Maybe...-

"Alright everyone! Listen up!" Veck's shouting voice severed Peter's line of thought. "Every person in here knows what's about to go down. 'Seems like Two Face forgot who's the granddaddy of Gotham, so the Boss wants us to deliver a little reminder. Y'know what that means? That means no mercy! No remorse! No holding back on putting these punks in their place! I don't care who is in that place when we get there, I want your finger on that trigger at all times! Two Face is no coward, so he'll try and put up a fight so I want everyone ready for anything! Understand?"

Veck turned around, unfastened the lever to the garage door and lifted it up to reveal several heavily armored vans, ready to be used for their upcoming bloodbath. Glancing over his shoulder, Veck raised his pistol to the ceiling and shouted. "Everyone ready?!'

All the thugs hollered like a pack of wolves, ready to begin the hunt. "Hustle up then!" Veck signaled for everyone to get into the vans and prepare to head out. "C'mon, Ben, you're ridin' shotty with me," Veck said, motioning towards the last armored Suburban waiting for them. Peter gripped the door handle to the passenger door and got ready to leave, but not before they both heard an all too familiar voice call out from the elevator. Veck and Peter both looked back towards the elevator and saw Harley running towards them. She was dressed head to toe in red and black camouflage, and heavy black make up accented her militaristic outfit.

"Wait for meeeee!"

Veck facepalmed and sighed. "Miss Quinn? What are you doing? You know the Boss doesn't want you here. He'd slaughter me if I let you come. I can't let you leave."

Harley pulled out a handgun and pointed it right in between Veck's eyes. "The hell you can. And you will."

Veck put his hands in the air and backed up, leaving her a clear pathway to the driver seat of his van.

"Thaaat's more like it, Heck!"

Normally, Veck would ask Harley to not make fun of his name, but he decided to stay quiet this time around. Harley's ponytails bobbed up and down in joy as she walked up to the driver door. She opened it but paused when she saw who was on the other side. She bent over and squinted her eyes at the character that awkwardly stood with his hands in his pockets, waiting for orders from either Veck or the queen of crime herself. Harley hopped in and motioned for Peter to get inside as well. Peter sat down in the passenger seat and fought like crazy to keep his heartbeat under control. Warmth cascaded Peter's heart as her thick Brooklyn accent and light hearted tone rushed his ears. It's what he longed to hear again for so long.

"What's wrong? You nervous?" She giggled and playfully punched him in the shoulder. "Geez, you sure wasn't nervous when you was knockin' me up with your eyes last night."

"Hey, hey, about that, I wasn't-"

"Relaaax, Benji, I'm just bustin' ya balls. Last night was pretty rough, huh?"

Was she serious? "Rough?" Is that what she called threatening him? She must've forgotten how she freaked out and punched him. Maybe she did, because she was acting like nothing happened since the tattoo.

"Well, it ain't gettin' easier. Gonna need your head in the game here, pal. Heard a lotta stories about you. Ya better live up to that shit, you got me? I need you."

Needed him? She needed him. Those words kept repeating in his mind for better or for worse. And he let it go to his head about all sorts of scenarios where he would provide for her any help from him she needed, mostly, a shoulder to cry on. Someone to talk to. Just anything besides being a person to assist her in mass murder. But still. Those three words.

"I need you."

Those three words said it all.

"Yeah. I'm here for you. Anything you need." He nodded in a trance of emotion, half-lidded eyes looking back at her own.

"Good." Harley nodded and repeated herself again, "Good...," as she took an extra moment to study the look on his face (one he wasn't aware of), before turning her focus onto the task ahead - the ignition.

With Veck in the backseat, Harley turned the van on and sped out of the garage, and into the night. Throughout the ride, Peter would steal glances at Harley and then shoot his gaze forward whenever she would catch him. He told himself over and over again that he needed to keep himself under control. But truth be told, he was like a little kid hopped up on sugar, and he felt like he would jump out of his seat at any moment to pull Harley into his arms, bust open the passenger door, and swing, swing, and swing some more, until they were out of Gotham, and into safety's embrace.

"Showtime, boys!" Harley's excited laughter snapped Peter out of his thoughts.

He opened his eyes to see them flying full speed at a large building that sat in the middle of Gotham City. From what he could tell, there were already other vans parked outside the curb, which meant that the battle was already in full operation. As they made it closer, Peter could hear the gunshots and screams of horror from the citizens caught up in the firefight between Two Face's henchmen and the Joker's thugs.

"Harley! Slow down!" Veck hollered from the back seat. They were getting closer to the building by the second, and Harley still hadn't let off the gas.

She smacked her gum in her mouth and put on a toothy smile. "'Slow down?' I ain't exactly what'cha would call a 'sunday driver'. I'm gonna ram this bad boy riiight through them front doors!"

"No, Harley, you're going to get us killed before we even-! Agh!" Veck screamed, tensing up in his seat to prepare for impact.

Harley ignored him by slamming her foot all the way down on the gas, earning a powerful rumble from the engine. The men fighting near the entrance all scurried away as fast as they could as the truck careened through and crashed into the lobby of the building, sending an explosion of glass and debris consuming the area. They crashed into the wall, and were launched forward from the sudden impact. Harley's face had smacked right into the steering wheel, Veck toppled onto the floor of the van, and Peter's forehead hit the dash.

Two Face's thugs gave them no time to recover, however, and they aimed their guns at the van and prepared to light it up. Peter's Spider Sense hit him like a freight train, so he grabbed Harley's arm and pulled her to the floor of the van as fast as he could. He threw himself on top of her and gritted his teeth as he heard the loud shots ring from outside.

Bullets showered the van, spraying from their guns at an inconceivable speed. Veck tried fighting back with counter fire out the back window, only to be forced to duck back down seconds later to avoid getting shot to pieces. They needed to figure something out. It was only a matter of time before the van would explode from the sheer volume of lead being pumped into it. Harley could do little to nothing, thanks to Peter smothering her from behind, so she screamed out as loud as she could so that her voice could carry over the sound of the rifles.

"Left thigh, Benjj! Left thigh!"

He was able to pick up on her hint and looked to see a cluster of small bombs hooked up to a strap on her leg. Peter grabbed one, pulled the pin, and launched it out of the passenger window, overshooting it on purpose so that the radius was non-lethal.

"GRENA-"

The explosion rang out before any of them had time to run away. Screams of agony filled the air, abruptly stopping the gunfire and giving the three a much needed opportunity to escape. Harley shoved Peter off of her, and rammed her shoulder into the door to force it open. She somersaulted onto the bullet-littered ground and got to work on the remaining thugs that hadn't already had stars above their heads from the explosion.

"Who's ready to play a game of Whack-a-Jerk?!"

Following up her warning, she took her mallet and swung it into the face of the nearest thug. Two more thugs ran towards her with axes in tow. She ducked down, avoiding a swing from one axe, and let her mallet drop down onto his foot. He howled in pain but shut up him up with a swift uppercut, sending him toppling into debris behind him. Harley turned just in time to see a fist headed straight at her. She used the momentum of her opponent against him by grabbing his arm, and pulling his gut into her elbow, following it with an upwards knee to his chin that knocked him on his ass. He struggled to raise his head off the ground fast enough, but all he saw was her mallet flying straight down into his face, until just seconds later, that same face was gone.

Veck and Peter stumbled out of the van and looked in awe at the horrific aftermath of the scene. Peter, in particular, was shocked at the level of violence Harley was capable of, and was even more disturbed by the fact that it didn't phase his attraction toward her.

"You two! I didn't choose to do this on single playa, so grab them joysticks and get ya head in the game!"

Not too long afterwards, the rest of the Joker's gang from outside joined the three of them in the lobby. Harley signaled to two thugs that each held an SMG. "Gimme those puppies." After they tossed their guns toward her, she playfully spun the weapons in her hands as she strutted toward the double doors that led into the main hall. "Aight, boys, listen up! I'm leadin' the charge, 'cause I wanna make my Puddin' proud'a me. That means don't get in my way, ya dig?! I'm gonna have Two Face lookin' like 'No Face' by the end'a tonight!"

All the goons roared in support for her, and let out one last warcry before following her deeper into the lobby. Harley ran up to the double doors that led into the dining hall and kicked them open.

"THERE THEY ARE!" Two Faces men shouted from within the room. "LIGHT EM' UP!"

With her lightning fast reflexes, she cartwheeled into the room. Her cover fire from behind her took out the first row of Two Face' s soldiers, who were shooting behind tables and chairs. Then, there was Harley that was powering through each goon with ease thanks to her twin guns. She flipped up in the air like an acrobat while firing her guns, and made mowing down men twice her size look like a walk in the park.

Peter was mesmerized by how skilled she was, especially for someone who didn't even have supernatural abilities. He struggled to keep up with her pace without unleashing his superhuman mobility, so he focused instead on protecting the other soldiers around him.

He put his back against Veck, "I got you, Veck! Just tell me what to do!"

Veck blasted a nearby thug with his shotgun and pointed toward a hallway on the far left side of the dining hall. "Down there! Help me clear a path! That hall leads to the backroom where Two Face is probably holed up!"

"Gotcha!" Peter vaulted over a table and used his momentum to send his right brass knuckle into someone's jaw, knocking them out instantly.

Two thugs rushed towards Peter with pistols, but he dove in between the bullets, fists outstretched, so his left could dig into the face of the goon towards his left, and the same for the one on the right. Once Peter landed, he rolled on the floor, used the momentum from the maneuver to hop back up, and roundhouse the hell out of another that almost got a lucky shot in.

Once a path was clear to the back hallway, everyone, now down to about twenty men, followed Veck's call to charge deeper into the building. Of course, Harley caught up to them no problem, smacking her gum along with a happy smile on her face. At the entrance to the hallway, a funnel of bullets from the right side cut through the path. Anchoring her head around the corner, Harley looked down the hall and saw rows of Two-Face's men tripping over themselves to keep them pinned down. Shooting her head back behind her, Harley shouted, "On my signal, boys!"

Throwing out her second grenade around the corner, this time a bright purple bomb that exploded into the hallway with red confetti (of course), and a blinding flash that halted the opposition to tend to their screaming eyes.

"NOW! GO, GO, GO!"

Twin bullet frenzies, one from each end of the hall, erupted into the thick of battle. There was a spurt of blood here and there within the smoke, dwindling the numbers of both parties. Once the smoke cleared, the remaining men on the floor opened their eyes to a clear picture of Harley standing before them, smiling ear-to-ear before a bullet put their lights out.

And she didn't slow down. "Fooollow the leeeader!" Harley sang, before using her combat boot to kick open the next door that led into a room filled with more goons. It was a compact kitchen that had little room for gunplay, but all for melee. And finally, Peter smirked, feeling he could show off more of his combat prowess. He dove into the room, along with the remaining amount of fellow soldiers that were now down to five.

Kitchen knives, cleavers, pots and everything you could imagine flew from both sides at blinding speed. Keeping up the pressure on the enemy team, Peter ducked just in time to avoid a flying cleaver headed straight for the bridge of his nose. He leaned back all the way, and let the giant blade bury into the wall behind him instead of his flesh. Before he knew it, his body was practically folded in half, low enough for his distressed hair to tickle the kitchen floor. He snapped himself back up, prayed that no one noticed his superhuman flexibility, but had little time to recover thanks to another incoming attack.

"Benny, heads up!" Veck's verbal warning and another dose of Spider Sense made him aware of a thug rushing him with a comically large pot that was filled with boiling hot salsa.

"Take this you sonuvabitch!"

Resorting to take advantage of his superior body movement again, Peter vaulted over the attacker, just barely avoiding contact with the intense hot liquid that now painted the floor red, mixing with the blood that freely flowed through from the casualties on both teams. Once he landed behind the thug, Peter launched both of his spiked fists into his back. A cry of agony rang out, only interrupted by a loud, hollow clang from the large pot that dropped out of his hands. Peter quickly picked up the pot and swung it down square on the man's head, knocking him out cold.

Peter looked around and noticed that it was now down to just four of their own men: Harley, Veck, himself, and another random scrub. Playfully dusting off her knees, Harley looked at her team and gave them a thumbs up. "Way to go, fellas!"

"Wait… hold on." Veck said through his heavy panting. He nodded towards the exit of the kitchen where the echo of heavy footsteps came from. "I don't think we're done yet."

A horrifying, terror-inducing sound rang out from the shadows of the room - a rattling, rusty chainsaw. Behind the savage weapon was no ordinary piece of street fodder. This was a man that stood seven feet tall and was obviously hooked up on only the most intense drugs you could take before nuking your own heart. He was shirtless, only dressed in white slacks, and checkerboard shoes. Resting on his neck was rows on top of rows of gold chains, boasting the wealth that came with Two Face's companionship. He revved up the chainsaw over and over as he fully stepped into the kitchen with the group of four.

"Two Face has had a long… long day…" he spoke with a deep exotic accent through gold plated teeth. "I ain't gonna let Joker's puta interrupt his sleep."

"Aint't gotta worry 'bout us ya 'roided up freak! After we mop the floor with ya, we'll be there to tuck Two Face in ourselves! Bedtime stories and all!" Harley tossed away her SMGs without a care in the world and brought her trusty mallet back out for more fun. "Rush em', boys!" Harley commanded.

Peter and the thug next to him both looked at each other with hesitant looks, but their last opponent didn't give them any time to think. He broke out into a surprisingly fast sprint and plowed through the kitchen tables and equipment that separated them. Once through, he used his overbearing body to shoulder check Peter and the other thug all at once. The sheer force from the impact sent Peter onto his back, his head colliding with the kitchen floor. He winced, a loud ringing sensation reverberating through his ears. He gained his senses back just in time to hear the sound of tearing flesh.

Peter looked to his right and saw the decapitated head of the thug that was just standing next to him, land right by his own face. Peter gulped and stared back into his lifeless eyes, shuffling away on the floor as fast as he could from the horrifying sight. A loud shot from Veck's sawed off brought him back to reality, and he stumbled back onto his feet to watch Veck attempt to take the man down.

Sure enough, the bullets ripped into the flesh of Two Face's goon, but had little results because he shook it off like it was nothing. He took the chainsaw and swung it right into the barrel of Veck's gun, causing sparks to fly from the different metals colliding with one another, and sending the weapon soaring out of Veck's hand. Barely having time to react, Veck tried dodging the incoming chainsaw blade, only to have the tip graze his upper arm. Thankfully, his arm was intact, but blood oozed out of his combat jacket like a waterfall.

Harley groaned as she rushed the goon from behind. "It ain't rocket science, fellas! Just keep away from the blade!"

"Nah," Peter struggled to say with his heart throbbing in his throat. Through shaky breaths, he clarified, "We need to get that thing outta his hands!" Peter looked back at the big pot that lay on the ground, and rushed over to pick it back up. He grabbed it and called out to the brute. "Hey! You!"

He looked at Peter and chuckled. "Dumbass Joker cocksucker! You think a fucking pot is going to stop me?!" Again, his quickness surprised everyone as he charged toward Peter at an insane speed.

"Benji, he's gonna slime ya!"

"Just be ready to screw him up!" Peter shouted as he braced for impact.

"GRAAAGH!"

The brute let out a war cry as he spearheaded the chainsaw straight at Peter. The teeth from the chain all buried deep into the pot, just like Peter had hoped for, turning it into a collage of twisted metals. Before the brute had time to react, Peter mustered all his strength and yanked the pot-saw contraption out of his hands. The goon watched helplessly as his weapon collided far away from him on the other side of the kitchen.

"NOW!"

Peter shouted for Harley and Veck to seize the advantage he bought them. Feeling cocky again, Peter rocketed his arm at the goon. Willfully, he took the hit, letting Peter's spiked fist collide within the palm of his hand. Even with the pointed brass protruding clean through the back of his hand, the brute still managed to laugh it off. With his entire hand encompassing Peter's fist, he twisted his wrist and watched as Peter struggled to keep his arm from twisting out of socket.

"Erngh!"

But he wouldn't be laughing for long. Opening his eyes through his grimace, Peter looked to see the goon's shit-eating grin turn into a plea for mercy in an instant. He heard the sound of crunching bone and looked to see that Harley's mallet had collided with the side of his knee. Releasing his hold of Peter's fist, he collapsed onto the floor and held himself up with his hands. Harley took the opportunity to climb onto his neck and snake her legs around so that she could snap his neck. She yanked and twisted as hard as she could with her thighs to no avail.

It was just too thick. "Ugh! Why won't you die?!"

"I got this…"

Peter heard a disturbingly dark tone come from behind him. It was Veck, but with a noticeable shift in attitude. In his hand was one of the many bloody cleavers that littered the floor. Veck approached the handicapped brute and raised the blade.

"The Joker sends you his condolences…"

Peter turned his head away as Veck finished Two Face's last insurance off.

Harley jumped off the man and let him fall dead to the ground. "Heh! Fancy hat!" She giggled, referring to the cleaver that was buried into his skull.

She turned around and looked both of her loyal men up and down. Harley gave a nod of approval to both of them and then stared at Veck's wound. Veck grabbed his shoulder and fought through the pain. "I'll be fine. Let's finish this."

"Damn straight. Once I waste Two Face's ugly mug, Puddin'll think twice about leavin' me to sit on the bleachers while the rest of the team makes the playoffs!"


"Bullets for heads, flames for tails."

A sharp *flick* echoed throughout the empty room. The coin flipped and refracted the light hanging from the ceiling before landing comfortably back in the palm of his hand. The man closed his palm, then placed the coin flat on the back of his other hand. A devilish grin crept onto his face.

"Tails it is then."

Two Face sat up from his executive chair and made his way around his extended desk. He reached for the flamethrower on his wall, then stood in the center of his office, feet firmly planted and back straight. Minutes went by, he was sure, and he stood there with his hands glued to his weapon. He could hear the muffled scream, bullets, and thumps from his men being taken out by the Joker's task force. But Two Face was no coward. He'd been expecting this raid for months now. Maybe he'd been thrown a little off guard tonight, but in the end, it didn't matter. He decided, as he stared at the front door of his room that was bound to be blown open, that he would go down swinging for his name's sake.

Shrill laughter and a cocking shotgun could be heard outside his door. They had finally come for him.

"Come on…" Two Face growled to himself, psyching himself up for the last dance. He reached his fingers around the lever and as soon as the door flew open, he squeezed with all his might. "COME OOON!"

Harley and the gang retreated to the outside of the door seal just as soon as they entered the room to avoid getting burned to a crisp. Flames licked and swept the entire area, even leaking out into the hallway where they stood. Harley took the last flash bang from the sash on her thigh and threw it under the belly of the spitting flame. Two Face noticed the object rolling to his feet at the last minute and barely shielded his eyes this time. The blinding light erupted in his face, so intense that he had no choice but to drop the flamethrower and cradle his aching head in his arms.

"GET MOVIN'!" Harley commanded.

Her two soldiers assisted her, Veck and Peter charging straight into the room while they had the chance. Veck tackled Two Face so hard, the two men went flying straight into the executive desk behind him. They rolled over a few times until Two Face was finally able to open his eyes, and shove Veck onto the ground. Immediately, Two Face scurried back onto his feet to make it back over to the flamethrower, but Peter kicked it away.

"What's the matter? Moms never told you it's not cool to be a pyromaniac?"

Two Face growled and threw a right hook into Peter's direction. Peter easily dodged it and countered with a right hook of his own. Two Face took the punch, but recovered from it faster than Peter thought. Next thing he knew, Two Face's dress shoe was buried into Peter's palm which he used to deflect the kick just in time. Two Face turned around in time to weave a dropkick from Harley, who just ended up falling into Peter instead and taking the weight of her fall.

"Owweee!"

Two Face turned around and made a run for the machine gun on the other side of the room. He quickly fastened the chain of bullets into the side chamber and smirked. Peter lifted his head only for a rush of dread to wash over him.

"GET DOWN!" Immediately, the room began flashing white on and off, over and over from the bullets spraying out of the rotating barrel. Harley, who was already on the floor from her failed dropkick, simply rolled over to the table for cover. Peter shuffled over to the table also, finding shelter by Harley's side.

But Veck…

Veck didn't make it.

He stumbled onto his feet and shielded his face so that he could make it over to the table as well, but a bullet found his leg.

Another found his stomach.

The other shot through his hand and through his head.

And the process continued until Veck was covered in gaping holes.

Harley and Peter lay next to one another, looking in horror as Veck collapsed to the ground, the smoke from the wounds in his body frantically dancing on his corpse.

Two Face gave his bullet-spitting monster a break. A victorious laugh bellowed out from his core, and he threatened them with the same fate. "YOU SHOULD'VE NEVER FUCKED WITH ME! The Joker and his citywide circus is over! I run this town! You hear me, bitch?! Your boyfriend is history!"

Suddenly, Peter could feel a steady vibration next to him. He looked to his right and saw Harley shaking with rage. She almost looked possessed as she stared into nothing, let her eyes go blank, and let her rage consume her. A disturbingly deep and rugged scream rang out from her chest, and she began standing up to unleash her rage on the man that killed one of her best men, and threatened murder on the man she loved more than anything. However, Peter knew what Two Face was doing by trying to rile her up so that she would come out from her cover. Harley's head popped out just for a second and Two Face squeezed the trigger.

Reacting fast enough though, Peter grabbed her by the collar of her leather jacket, and pulled her to the ground. Bullets decorated the wall in front of them with infinite holes, spilling debris all over them. He knew that if this kept up, the table would be torn to shreds and they'd have no cover left to hide from. Whether he liked it or not, Peter would have to show off some of his superhuman skills. He launched himself off up the ground and toward the wall. Running past the bullets fast enough, he ran up the wall vertically, then transitioned to the ceiling.

Two Face and Harley could only stare at the amazing feat, and when Harvey Dent realized what Peter was doing, it was too late. He struggled to pull the heavy barrel of the gun up fast enough to shoot Peter as he ran on the ceiling, but he was too slow. Peter made it to the other side of the room and crashed on top of Two Face with all his body weight. Peter looked up and saw Harley staring at him over the top of the desk. At a steady rate, she stood up from behind the table, her bulging eyes never wavering from Peter's.

Police sirens could be heard approaching from outside, and Harley snapped back to reality. She knew she had to quickly wrap up what she came to do, and discussing "Benjamin's" strange ability could wait until later. She walked over to where Peter sat with his knee on Two Face's neck. She fished her infamous pistol out of the back of her pants and proudly help it up as she approached him. Two Face wriggled and spat back and forth, cursing her and the Joker over and over as she approached and stood over him.

"Ungh! You think this is the end of me?! Huh, bitch?! Fuck you! And fuck the Jok-" A bullet rang from Harley's pistol, preventing Two Face from getting a chance to finish his last words.

Peter looked at the man in shock and slowly climbed off him. Peter's body violently jerked as another shot was fired. Two smoking holes on each side of his face. Harley blew the smoke from her pistol and smirked at Peter. "Two bullets for Two-Face...-" The smoking barrel found its way towards Peter. Harley's face was equally as heated as the gun she threatened him with. "-...And one for you."

"What?"


"I knew it was you. I fuckin' knew it was you! There was too many coincidences!" A knowing, disbelieving smile flashed across her lips before it was replaced by a gaze of anger. "How dumb do you think I am?! Spider-Man disappears, and all of a sudden, Puddin' has this hotshot who's been askin' 'bout him?! Oh, and he just so happens to be strong enough to kick it with B-Man?! How dumb do you think I am?!" She repeated, the question roaring out of her mouth, and her handgun shaking closer to him with each word that punched into him.

Peter raised his hands carefully and slowly. Through her eyes, he could see the peak of her insanity threatening to burst through her eyes. She paused, shaking her head and giving a sympathetic smile as she looked him up and down.

"Gotta give it to ya. You're one dedicated sonuvabitch. Goin' as far as to help me smoke this motherfucker," she flicked her barrel down to the corpse in between them and let out her trademark giggle. "Whoever hired ya, knew what the hell they were doin'."

With the utmost caution, Peter reassured her. "I don't work for anyo-"

"-Bullshit!" Decibels from her roar threatened to shatter their surroundings, and her barrel trained onto his forehead once more. "Now, either you're with the fuzz, or there's a third party involved."

"No. It's just me-"

Harley talked over Peter, as if he weren't speaking at all. "-Because what reason would anyone have to help Mistah J if they-"

"Fuck him! Fuck! Him!" Peter continued his uncontrollable rant, despite the uncomfortable taste of explicatives he never used, and rage dripping in the form of saliva from his lips. He stomped up to her, the gun disappearing from his vision. Only her, his eyes deemed necessary to see, drowned out by the blinding red from his vision.

"Fuck the Joker! Nothing I did was ever for him! Harley, it was all for you!"

"What?!" She stammered back, her question uncharacteristically high pitched. Silhouettes of words came and went as she fought for something to say, her damaged brain on full speed trying to decipher his statement. "T-The fuck?! You expect me to believe somethin' as ridiculous as that?! Who do you think I am?! What could you possibly benefit from helpin' me ?!"

"Maybe some sleep? I dunno, Harley, because ever since I saw you get thrown out of that goddamn truck, I haven't had any! I can't sleep because of you! I cant fucking sleep!"

There wasn't much strength left to hold his voice from collapsing. Harley could hear it as his words got weaker towards the end of his sentences. Both of them were on the verge of tears.

"That's what this is about?!"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. The truck. The name-calling. The humiliation. The bruises you think nobody sees! Okay? Because I do! Understand? Yeah, every night when I close my eyes to get two seconds of sleep, I see the Joker tearing you apart! I see it!"

Vulnerable eyes drifted away from him, unable to hold their stance. "I told you… I didn't need your help."

Sirens. They could be heard in the background amongst their heavy breathing. Their echo suggested the police were far away. Still plenty of time for Harley to deal with the man in front of her.

"And now, you fucked up. Puddin's gonna have a field day with you." She said, tapping her chest in the spot where his body cam was. His eyes shut on their own. Of course, how could he forget about such a crucial detail? Wherever the Joker had been, he'd been given a live feed to his confession and "betrayal" to the Joker's cause. Veck's death that still lingered in the back of his mind, and Two-face's murder was all well documented, thanks to him being the sole survivor of the massacre besides Harley. And the devious, vengeful smile on her lips told him that she wouldn't hesitate to take her hands off the situation, and let her Puddin' get his hands writhe with Spider-Man's blood.

Still, Peter remained confident. Optimistic. And even as the engines got closer to the building, being audible even from the top floor, Peter didn't falter. "I'm glad he's here. Because now that you know who I am, you won't be surprised when I tear him apart with my bare hands."

"And that will be all 'for me' too?" She cocked her gun back, not amused by the threat to her lover. "Don't be a hero. You don't know me, bitch."

That's when Peter felt it.

A strong cry from his Spider-Sense, alerting him that he needed to dodge.

Because even if he hesitated for just a second…

No.

He challenged death. He challenged fate. He challenged Harley.

Taking the barrel of the gun in his palm, Peter took a step closer to Harley, and put the barrel right up against his chest. If it wasn't for his shirt in the way, the metal would be cutting his skin from Peter's angry, trembling hand hosting the gun above his own center.

"You won't do it."

Harley did it anyway.

A flash of bright auburn lit up his eyes.

It was too late.

He had been foolish, choosing not to believe his supernatural instinct. Choosing not to believe that she would do it. The cost? A great rush of pain throughout his upper chest.

Harley shot him.

A terrible wail ripped through the room as Peter collapsed onto his knees. He'd be fine. As long as he…

A second wave of pain joined the first, this time, through his back.

Harley shot him again.

Seething in pain, confusion, and disbelief, he struggled on the floor until the sound of an elevator chime alerted the two to a third presence. And when the doors to the room opened, that presence engulfed the room like an all-consuming mask of evil and filth.

The Joker stepped in, with a look on his face that Harley had only seen before once in her life.

And she was reminded right there through his eyes… that there are things in this world worse than death.