Harley Quinn Romance 2

Chapter 06: Sidetracked

The rocket left a trail of gray-white smoke as it streaked toward Harley's target.

The warehouse was situated on a long concrete pier in Gotham harbor where ships could sail in and out, either dropping off or collecting their cargo directly at the warehouse without the need for large moving trucks.  Batman grabbed the two captured assassins and arms dealer, dragging them in the direction of the nearby inlet for Gotham harbor. He only managed to get a few feet away before the rocket hit the ground and detonated.

A massive fireball blossomed out of the ground, expanding in all directions. Harley lost sight of the Bat.

When the explosion diminished to patches of flickering flames around the crater blasted in the ground, Harley saw no sign of her hated enemy. Dropping the rocket launcher back into its crate, she took hold of a sturdy drainpipe and slid down to street level.

Stepping around the areas still on fire, she looked for any sign of remains. Harley didn't see any blood or body parts. She considered the possibility everything had been vaporized by the intensity of the explosion.

Her expectations were dashed to pieces a moment later when the revving of an engine reached her ears. Running over to the edge, she looked down into the waters of the inlet. The flames burning near the warehouse cast orange reflections on the water's surface, allowing her to see a vague outline of a powerful boat pull away from the warehouse and cruise swiftly away before submerging beneath the waves.

Harley stomped her foot in frustration. She decided Batman must've been pushed into the water by the blast wave of the explosion. She didn't know or care if the two assassins had managed to survive; Harley only cared Batman had survived, escaped to haunt her another day.

Harley turned away from the dock in a frustrated rage. It was then she noticed a small flickering near the top floor of a different warehouse across the way. It looked similar to the fire, but it was smaller and more focused, a singular location where the light refused to reach beyond the width of a thumbnail.

Taking the fire escape up two steps at a time, Harley made her way to the roof, stretched out on her stomach, and reached to the full extension of her arms to claim the small device responsible for reflecting the light of the fire. It was a tube no larger in length or width to her pinky finger. On the tail end of the black painted device was a micro transmitter, and the opposing end had a curved piece of clear glass looking very much like a fisheye.

"A camera," Harley said half in admiration for the fun toy and half in annoyance for what it had caused. She tilted the device around to point its eye at herself. "Whoever is on the other end of this thing, listen up if you can. You may have alerted B-man to my little trap, but this ain't over yet!"

Dropping the small camera and transmitter to the roof, Harley smashed it with her boot heel. Batman had left the tiny camera behind for someone to watch his back. Harley was annoyed his plan had worked better than hers.

Harley smiled. The battle to kill Batman had been an ongoing challenge for the villainous denizens of Gotham since the first time the hero had shown his masked face. She'd gotten close, and since she knew how he'd avoided her trap this time, her next attempt would be even better, maybe even successful. The only thing still frustrating Harley was her current lack of funds. It had taken everything she'd had left to hire Deadshot and Deathstroke, so now she'd be forced to wait until after the wedding to Bruce before she could get her hands on the Wayne billions and try again.

She kicked the broken camera off the roof, listening to it clatter its way down the fire escape.

  ***  

Harley drove away from the warehouse as the flashing lights of the fire engine approached. She stopped by her apartment long enough to collect her pets before driving again. She needed time to think, to sort the confusing thoughts fighting it out in her mind.  The massive apartment Bruce had provided for her was too spacious and opulent for her to be comfortable at the moment. She needed something more familiar.

Harley parked her car outside the old factory. The sign for the previous owner, Gags and Giggles, was faded almost to the point of being unreadable. Formerly used to produce novelty joke kits, the factory had been abandoned when the company went out of business. Joker had moved in shortly thereafter and appropriated it as one of his many hideouts.

"Come on, babies," Harley encouraged after climbing out of the car. Her two hyenas followed quickly at her heels.

The door to the factory was locked, but Harley removed a loose brick near the door and retrieved the rusty key hidden in the hollow behind the brick. Unlocking the door, Harley turned to her pets to give them instructions.

"Jump," Harley told the first, and it hopped over the welcome mat to enter the building. She gave the same command to her second hyena with identical results. Returning the brick to its place, Harley pocketed the key and stepped carefully over the welcome mat.

As she closed the door, she caught a glimpse of the wires sticking out from under the edge of the welcome mat. A pressure plate resided under the mat and was connected to several pounds of explosives buried in the ground. Mr. J had called it his unwelcome mat.

Harley smiled slightly as the happy memory came to mind. Sadness followed in its wake as she remembered that her memories of Joker were all she had left.

She followed her pets as they scampered out onto the main factory floor, sniffing everything and everywhere as they reacquainted themselves with the old surroundings. To Harley, the factory felt hollow and lifeless. No crazy laughter, no stacks of blueprints and plans for the Joker's next big idea. The empty factory had all the warmth of a graveyard.

In the manager's office, located in a small room on the second floor, Harley found Mr. J's favorite chair, and flopped down in it. The remote control for the TV was stuffed under the cushion, and it activated when she landed in the chair, switching on the television to a local news program.

Harley reached under the cushion to drag the remote out. The news was always depressing, and she had more important things to think about, such as the demise of a certain nocturnal pest. Aiming the remote, she was about to switch off the TV when she noticed the picture behind the blonde reporter was of Harley. Turning up the volume, she listened to what the reporter had to say.

"The authorities have just released the names of the two men who were involved in a shootout with police," the reporter stated while maintaining an unwavering gaze into the camera. "The two men, Tyler Parr and Joel Murrow, are recovering in Gotham Memorial Hospital after they opened fire on the police who tried to arrest them for fleeing the scene of an accident. The incident responsible for wrecking their vehicle has been linked to the car crash of Harleen Quinzel, fiancé of billionaire Bruce Wayne. Paint transfer between the two vehicles has confirmed their involvement in her crash, but the reasons behind it will probably not be known until the criminals are out of the hospital and can be interrogated. More on this story as it develops. This is Vicki Vale reporting for Gotham Live."

As the program went to commercial, Harley switched it off, setting the remote on the armrest of her chair. She hadn't remembered the car chase, only waking up in the wreck. Some of what had happened afterward was unreachable, like a wet painting splashed with a glass of water. Some of the pigment had stayed in place and was clearly visible, but other parts had started to run together, dripping off the edge of the canvas of her mind in a blurred and unrecognizable mess. If she was run off the road, someone had tried to murder her. She thought about everyone she and the Joker had ever crossed, but the list was so long, she'd never be able to check everyone.

"Tyler Parr and Joel Murrow," Harley said slowly, memorizing the names. She looked down at her hyenas and scratched their furry heads. "What do you think? Since I'm temporarily out of funds, killing Batman will have to wait anyway, so how about I find the people who tried to kill me?"