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OH, I LOVE MOVING
NEW CITY, NEW FACES, NEW THINGS TO DISCOVER
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It's a quiet, beautiful and sunny day today, which is also accompanied by a light breeze. A few dead leaves and other such others follow the wind and blow along a lone highway. For some people it would appear to be an ordinary day, but not for Harley Quinn. Today isn't ordinary at all, not in the slightest bit.
Soon enough, the peaceful silence stops and a loud roaring noise is heard in the far distance. Harley's womanly figure can be seen riding down the highway on a shiny, black motorcycle. Two massive suitcases with different-colored fabrics peeking out it's sides are strapped behind the driver with thick rope and Bernie is secured in front of her by the same material, his hot pink tutu flying in the wind. The engine of Harley's motorcycle roars loudly as it rides down the highway. As the sound of the engine gets closer, Bernie and her can be seen more clearly.
The motorcycle is speeding down the highway, racing through the acceptable speed limit.
Twenty minutes ago, in a worn down gas station about a mile away from the main road, Harley Quinn had changed into a black and red crop top with matching shorts, fishnets and black combat boots. A pair of black motorcycle goggles sit on top of her head, pulling her "biker girl" outfit together nicely.
Her black leather gloved hands tightly grip the handles of her Harley Davidson as it shakes violently beneath her, threatening to dismount her. But she keeps her grip tight and firm, just as Rosalie taught her.
This isn't all she's wearing, though. She has on a very sizable backpack strapped to her back, which holds mini outfits for Bernie and drinks and snacks she bought from the last hotel's vending machine.
The ride is overall peaceful. She'll occasionally drive past a car, truck, big rig, or even a fellow biker, but the road is mostly empty. Which gives her time to think, especially now of all times. It's just her, Bernie and the road.
There's a bright smile that sits on her lips, one which can't wait to be welcomed by Gotham City. Jeez... How long's it been, she thinks quietly to herself. Two years? Or is it three?
If she's being honest with herself, she's more nervous than happy to return to Gotham. Maybe the right word is afraid, because she is more afraid than nervous. Any person would feel the same if they were away from home for God knows how long. Especially if they don't know how people will react to their return. So, yeah, she is afraid..
She continues to drive along the highway, but then she notices something that makes her slow down. It's the air.
The foggy air tastes round and dry, spiked with the unique scent of the city. Nobody knows what it is, not even native New Yorkers. It could be the smell of garbage that's constantly wafting through the air like a light breeze, the combination of soft pretzels, dark meats and a number of unidentifiable sauces burnt to a crisp on the food carts that like to linger on the sidewalks in an enticing, yet somewhat disconcerting, cloud. It could also be the smell of wet concrete, that stagnant water scent that can be found after a rain, or the smell of hot automotive exhaust while cars are backed up at a light or waiting to get into the tunnel. Maybe it's the mysterious hot air blowing from vents on the sides of buildings, the sun baking the stench of human and/or dog urine, the nearby fish markets, or it could also be the countess amount of toxins Gotham's infamous criminals have released into the city over the years. Hell, maybe it's a combination of all those things. But that smell that radiates from the city in a nostril-stinging cloud is what makes Gotham, well, Gotham.
She's finally arrived.
Harley is seen taking a deep inhale, the pungent smell tingling her nostrils as expected. Home sweet home.
Sure enough she begins to see the city come into view. The sky is cloudy and the ground looks misty like it had just rained. The usual. Just like Forks, Gotham likes to rain a lot. The streets are filled with cars — mostly cabs — metro buses, and people on the roads that sell fruits. Then, the the dirty sidewalks are filled with crowds of people, food vendors and entrances to markets, restaurants, apartment buildings and so much more.
It's beautiful land is spread out in front of Harley Quinn like shiny treasure. The birds roosting in the streets take flight, fleeing away from her roaring motorcycle.
"Oh, I love moving," Harley breathes out, speaking to the dead beaver that's strapped to her motorcycle. "New city, new faces, new things to discover!"
"Why are you so happy, Fruitcakes," she images Bernie speaking back to her as she continues through the city. "That was the worst trip ever! I'm the one who had all that wind messin' up my fur! An' the bugs! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get bugs outta teeth?"
Harley Quinn stops at a red light, settling between a massive, blue metro bus and a bright yellow cab. People from each end of the sidewalks begin to walk in front of her, one of the people being a young man glued to his phone. He is walking his adorably squishy dachshund dog -- well, more like dragging him. The pug is being jerked around by the blue leash attached to the collar on it's neck, whining as it is hurting him.
"An' don't get me started on all those pree-vocative glances I wuz gettin' from truck drivers," Bernie exclaims loudly, earning a look from Harleen. Though he pays no mind to it and continues to complain.
Today's just fine and dandy, she thinks to herself with a beaming smile, which then slowly begins to fade. However, I think I might have to drop-kick a particular furry beaver into the East River if he doesn't shut up!
"And the fumes," he continues, exaggerating his experience.
Put a sock on it, furball.
Harley is pulled away from her thoughts as she hears a loud whining noise. Her hard eyes drift off Bernie and instantly soften as soon as they land on the poor dog being dragged away by it's clearly neglectful owner. The dog looks back at her, continuing his cries and whines.
Harleen looks over at the owner, who has already crossed the crosswalk and is currently about to step onto the sidewalk, and narrows her eyes. "Oh, no you don't, cheesewad," she shouts before racing past the red light and aggressively turning her bike to face the entertained man.
"... and I almost hurled," the man laughs over the phone, completely oblivious to the angry harlequin behind him.
Now close enough to the man, she acts fast, unwrapping one of the many ropes that tie Bernie around her bike, and circling it in the air like a cowgirl before slashing the dog's leash with it.
WAPISH!
Dr. Quinzel moves quick, reaching in, snatching the dog off the floor and safely setting him down onto her lap before aiming for the man with her rope.
"So, tell me," the man continues to speak over the line, having yet to notice how his dog is now sitting on a stranger's lap, "is there anything more boring than a married couple that — Urrrkk!"
The tight rope had curled tightly around his neck, causing him to fall to the ground from the sudden action, which makes it easier for Harleen. She cranks up the engine and drives off before he has the chance to get back up. He is jerked backwards from his neck, tied securely to the back of her gorgeous Harley Davidson, which drags him through the streets of Gotham like a dog as Harley continues through the city like nothing. He is too shocked to scream or ask for help, so he just lays there, frozen. His phone having landed elsewhere when he fell down, the rough pavement scratches away at his bare arms and face, a trickle of blood following behind him.
Harley Quinn looks back at him through her small mirror and smiles before glancing down at the joyful pup on her lap who stands on his feet to lick her face. "Now, isn't this better," she coos, wiggling her nose under his wet tongue.
"Aye," Bernie scolds from the front of his owner's bike as a string of the puppy's saliva caresses the fur on his neck. "Watch the drool, fido!"
Suddenly, they hear a loud banging noise occur behind them, and Harley turns her head back to see how the careless dog owner had been hit by a yellow cab.
"What the hell, man," a gruff man's voice hollers from inside the cab. He is clearly upset because the man had cracked one of his windows, not because said man is being hauled away by a rope around his neck tied to the back of a motorcycle.
"Oops," Harley says, turning her attention back around.
Having crashed into the cab has made the man step away from his frozen spot, and he finally realizes what is going on. His hands immediately fly to his neck and he tries to remove the rope, but it's secured to him tightly, just like a leash would to a collar on a dog. He resorts to the next option — screaming, but the more he screams, the harder it is for him to breathe. Harley Quinn just ignores his cries out for help and continues to smile. The grateful puppy on her lap stands up again and starts to lick her face. She giggles, feeling already at home.
"Yup, this is better for me, too!"
"Mommy," they hear the man scream behind them as the motorcycle passes through Knight Bridge.
Being that the bridge is crowded, Harley Quinn stops in front of a line of honking cars. The man can finally catch a break and -- most importantly -- his breath. As he struggles to breathe and untie the rope on his neck at the same time, Harley can be seen playing with the adorable puppy.
There is a loud roaring behind her that belongs to another motorcycle. The motorcycle in question is a black and bright orange Honda CD200 RoadMaster. While it appears to an older model, it looks to be in pristine condition. It's rider is a mystery. There is no right way to see what he looks like under his helmet or how tall he is.
He is wearing a Bell Racing Qualifier Helmet. His visor is blacked out, so it's almost impossible to see the person's face. The rest of the helmet is silver mixed with a bit of orange. He wears a simple black leather jacket that is partly unzipped, which shows a dark orange shirt underneath. This matches his normal blue jeans and simple black and white sneakers.
Overall, the only way to identify the rider is that he is a man, who seems pretty fit as well. His black leather gloved hands tightly grip on a piece of paper, which has a mugshot of Harley Quinn printed on. It has has the word "WANTED" written above her photo and the number $2,000,000 beneath it.
Little does Harley know, she is about to quickly learn that a lot of people in this city want her dead. And at the top of that list is... well, a very passionate woman.
"Ha-hah," the man breathes out a quiet laugh. He smirks underneath his helmet and looks up at the Harley Davidson in front of him as he shoves the piece of paper back into his pocket and retracts his hand back out, this time holding a fully loaded pistol. "There you are, you little bunny boiler." His motorcycle is about to turn to her side so he could drive beside her and easily shoot her, but fate has something else in mind as the cars begin to move, and so does Harley. Still, he doesn't lose confidence, as he follows behind her and shouts, "I'm gonna be rich!"
Harley Quinn pays little mind to it, thinking it's just the man she's been torturing for a good solid three minutes talking out of his ass. The fumes of my motor-bike has probably made 'im go crazy or somethin', she thinks, dismissing it. She is completely and utterly oblivious to the the man's motorcycle riding beside her and his gun aimed at her head. It isn't when the puppy begins to bark at her that she finally peels her eyes off the road and looks down at him.
"What is it, boy," she questions.
The dog continues to bark loudly, only stopping and turning his barks into low, menacing growls when the tip of the man's cold gun touches Harley's temple.
"Yow," she yelps loudly, taken back by the sudden action. Neither her or the driver of the motorcycle stop riding their bikes, riding alongside each other with his gun pointed at her head.
Then, he begins to shoot, and before one of his bullets could hit Harley, she leans her head back and the bullets go flying past the puppy and her. He, also, has his head ducked down. She works fast, suddenly stopping her motorcycle, which leads to the tortured man flying in the air before he crashes down on the biker behind her. Her sudden halt causes her luggage to burst wide open before it crumbles down onto the ground. All sorts of clothes and shoes go flying into the air from the impact. Not to mention, two cars have crashed behind her, the loud screeching noise filling her ears.
She glances back at the crash and sees that both cars are severely damaged, one of them tilting on its side. "Whoopsie daisy," she laughs before looking over at the biker. She turned her head just in time to see his bike being knocked over and him falling along with it.
"Ufff," he makes a groaning noise as soon as he lands on the ground, not noticing how she had stepped out her motorcycle.
She rummages through her things — which is currently spread out all over the bridge. She is searching for something, and the puppy soon joins her in the action, sniffing around. "Where is...," she trails off before pulling out a giant, wooden mallet from one of her suitcases. "Aha!" The dog barks at her direction. She looks down at him and smiles, petting his head. "Good boy! Stay," she instructs before resting her heavy mallet over her right shoulder and strutting over to the injured biker. "Mommy has ta bash someone's brains out."
Loud groans are heard from where the biker lays. He has obviously broken something. The window on his helmet has a large crack and blood and sweat is rolling down his face and neck. He is still a shock. She threw him off his bike like a Raggedy Ann doll without even laying a finger on him!
He hears footsteps coming near him, the owner of those steps clearly pissed. It stops in front of him, and he looks up to find Harley Quinn standing over him with an angry expression.
"I dunno know who you are... I dunno why you're trying to kill me," she starts, aiming her mallet at him before knocking the gun out of his hands after realizing he grabbed it without her noticing. "... All I know is it took me all night to pack everything I own on that motorcycle. Alla my personal effects!" With the gun now out of his hands, she swings at him, the head of her heavy mallet coming in contact with the palm of his right hand. "... Alla my treasures!"
There is a loud CRUNCH that rings through the air before the man cries out in pain.
"... Alla my ob-jects du art," she continues to yell out loud as she swings at him again — aiming for his right leg, which leads to another painful crunch and an excruciating scream from the man. She throws another jab at him, this time for his gut. "... Alla my delicates!"
The mysterious biker lets out a loud groaning noise before wrapping his arms around his stomach. It isn't when she hits him again and hears another loud crunch noise that she stops. She's holding her mallet up in the air, glaring at the man beneath her.
"Any last words," she questions, not really caring what he needs to say.
The man removes a hand off his stomach and raises it in the air. He struggles to catch his breath, but nevertheless speaks. He groans and gasps before forming a single word. "... Don't..?"
The eyebrows on Harley's face furrow. She wasn't expecting that. "Don't?! That's all ya got?"
The man looks as though he is about to say something else, but it's already too late because she has already swung on him. Bernie, still secured on the motorcycle, watches as the man's helmet is knocked out of his head and is then rocketed through the air before going over the bride's suspender cables and landing in the water with a loud SPLASH.
"Well, damn," he mumbles under his breath, earning a loud bark from the puppy dog.
FIN