♡♦♡
OH HARLEY,
WHAT HAVE YOU TURNED INTO MY DEAR
♡♦♡
Rays of early morning sunlight filtering through the blinds pulls Harley Quinn out of her sleeping state. Or at least, that's what she thinks, but maybe it's the sleepy little grumble that sounds somewhere to her right. She squints against the sun for all of three seconds before shutting her eyes again and pulling the comforter up to her shoulders, hugging the fabric close to her chest. It's nice and warm, and Harley is still pleasantly floating adrift a comfortably sleepy haze. She's not ready to wake up yet.
It's for that reason, and for that reason alone, that she doesn't shoot out of bed. Quinn drifts in her solitary bubble for at least another ten minutes, walking right along the precipice of unconsciousness when another small groan sounds beside her. However, this time the noise doesn't just rouse. This time, it abruptly nibs her ear and smacks her awake.
Eyes shooting open, Harley immediately sits up, blinking numerous times against the lighted scenery. Cold air affronts her bare arms as the comforter falls and icy panic laces up her spine once she realizes that she is still bloodied-up and in her supervillain costume from last night's mission. She groans loudly, scrambling to grab the comforter and cover herself up again, from head to toe.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she counts to three in her head, accompanying the numbers with deep inhalations and slow exhalations in a meager attempt to fully wake up. When Harley finally feels like she's one-hundred percent snapped herself awake, she opens her eyes and glances next to her. She smiles softly, Bruce and Eddie sprawled out in a less-than-graceful manner, barely covered by the sheets.
She carefully grabs another part of the comforter and tosses it over the wild hyenas, covering them up against the cold. She extends her arm to pet them, but just as she does so, Eddie smacks Harley's cheek whilst Bruce makes another little noise. She snatches her hand back, smiling as she thinks to herself. Spoiled brats.
Quinn slowly and carefully sits up on the bed mattress, looking at her surroundings. There are things such are shoes, clothes, underclothes, empty cups, dirty plates and other things of the sort strewn all over the room. It's like a hurricane has whipped itself through the area before promptly exiting through the window. She groans, massaging her temples. Her life is a chaotic shit-show.
Seven months have passed since her eighteenth birthday at the Cullen's house. Seven months since she had sliced her fingertip on one of her birthday gifts, causing Jasper's instincts to override him and attack her. Seven months since Edward had broken up with her.
Quinn looks up from her lap, her eyes landing on a framed photo of Edward on her nightstand table. She frowns deeply.
Thinking about him has become easier as the months pass by. Maybe because she is starting to convince herself that he had never existed, like he was some kind of dream. But no matter how hard she tries to convince herself, she has not once forgotten about Edward Cullen. Ivy is starting to believe that she is getting better, because Harley smiles more. But little does she know that he is in her every thought. It hurts her to know he intended on this. She can still remember when he left.
Harley remembers that day as if it was just yesterday... the party, the paper cut, their last and final kiss, the midnight walk and the words that ruined her entire life.
She shudders as the pain all comes rushing back... the same pain she felt when he walked away from her, when she was curled up in bed, repeating his words in her head. He didn't want her.
She tries her best everyday... to try and hide the true pain she feels. It's as if she is wearing a mask to hide the true pain she feels. Jane isn't convinced, that's why she suggests she leaves to Hawaii for vacation. But Harley isn't leaving Gotham... it's where her new life is.
Eddie stirs a little, and Harley sighs deeply, knowing that if she doesn't get up now she will be late for work. Not wanting to wake her babies up, she takes a couple baited breathes before pulling herself together.
As quietly and with as little movement as she can muster, the blonde removes herself from under the covers and immediately makes a beeline for her clothes; she finds clean underwear somehow kicked underneath the bed a little, but she fails to locate a bra. Too intent on getting out of here as soon as possible so she won't arrive to work late, she decides to ditch the article of clothing and leave it behind. The moment she is fully clothed and her phone is securely in her back pocket, Harley makes her way to the door.
Twenty minutes later, Harley is standing in front of a large window, lost in thought and gently playing with a bouquet of flowers. She touches the daisies under her hands, tapping each and every one of their yellow buds before watching their delicate, white petals close around themselves. She inhales deeply, smelling the wonderful scent of blossom, roses and lavender. She closes her eyes, letting the sun prickle her pale skin. She is so relaxed it is unreal.
Ivy's flowers always have this effect on her.
The birds flutter around in the sky, so peaceful and happy. She frowns at the sight, wishing that was her. She stares at the striking, blue sky. It is clear and cloudless, a rare thing to see in Gotham.
She closes her eyes, focusing on the chirping of birds and the soft breeze on the other side of the window that makes the trees rattle. She feels the pressure of her lids press down, everything around her turning black as she rests her eyes.
Harley hears something or someone stirring behind her and the mumbling of her name. She smiles at the peace hearing it brings her. She opens her eyes to take one last glance at the sky before turning around and seeing Doc laid out on a hospital bed.
He mumbles something that sounds like "safe," though how can he still say her name and that word in the same sentence? Doc is strapped to monitors and different machines, as well as to an oxygen tank. His face and hands are wrapped in white bandage, the burns too severe for the air to hit it.
The nurses kept assuring her that everyone is doing exactly what they are supposed to do, and that Doc and his wife are in very good hands, but she's never felt so helpless, so guilty.
Instinctively, she holds the fatherly figure's hand tightly, wishing more than anything that she could've kept him and his wife safe and away from the hands of Victoria. Although Harley has temporarily conquered Victoria and has successfully fled from her grasp, having Doc and her friends be around her will always bring them too close to danger. What if the next time they are threatened, she is too late?
Careful not to pull at any of the tubes or wires Doc is connected to, she sits down gently on the edge of his bed. It is so painful to see her best friend broken this way, and even harder because she knows she is to blame. If I hadn't came back to Gotham, none of this would have happened, she sniffles. The worst part of all of this, is not being able to go after Victoria and finish her off herself. She has probably already changed locations and moved to another dingy hotel.
"I'm sorry, Doc," Harley whispers, scared she might hurt him by even speaking. "You've been nothin' but welcoming and understanding to me. And even though I did not physically shoot that ball of fire your way, it was still all my fault. I am so sorry."
She pauses for a moment, wishing for a sign that he can hear her. She listens to his breathing, even checking the monitor to see if his heart rate even increases. She has grown so used to hearing him talk whenever she is around, she didn't realize how unsettling it would be to so see Doc lie completely still and silent beside her. She allows herself one moment to reach out and put her hand over his heart, letting the steady beat and his warmth comfort her. He takes one breath that feels a little deeper than the last and it gives her hope that even if he can't hear her words, her presence is still helping him in some small way.
He clearly isn't too well, the sight of his body gruesome and hard to swallow, even for a murderous clown like Harleen. The entire restaurant had bursted into wild flames as a result of Victoria Sutherland's actions three days ago, causing Doc and his wife to suffer with severe second degree burns on their arms, face and back. They were lucky enough to survive the fire, others weren't.
"The docs here are takin' good care of ya an' yer old lady, Doc. I'm makin' sure of it," Harley says, frowning deeply. "Your daughter, Suzzie, will be here as soon as she can, okay? An' before ya know it, you'll wake up an' be back to yer regular ol' self. I promise."
She has been staring at his face, but out of the corner of her eye, she could've sworn she saw his hand twitch. Of course. It would be just like Doc to come out of a near coma to tell her to stop being so hard on herself.
And as for Victoria, well, she has yet to come back for Harleen. Only God knows why. Though, this worries Harley even more than what it would if she decides one day to kidnap her again — just the suspension and not knowing whether she is safe to not. But just because she hasn't decided to capture her yet doesn't mean she isn't around.
Harley can feel her chilling presence everywhere her goes, feel her eyes always on her back, burning gaping, sizzling holes through her whole body. Sometimes, just sometimes, she can even feel her sinking herself onto the edge of her bed whilst she is asleep. Knowing that the vampire is too strong for her, she doesn't fight again it. Instead, she just pretends to continue to sleep until Victoria finally makes her exit out her bedroom window. She knows that Victoria can suddenly change her mind and come back to finish her off, and she doesn't understand why she hasn't done so already, but she sure as hell isn't going to ask.
One thing she knows for sure is that Victoria needs her alive for something. And if it's not for the Cullen's whereabouts, then what is it?
"I'll let ya get yer rest now, Doc," she continues with a soft and kind smile. "I'll be back tomorrow and the day after, and the one after that, until you an' yer lady wake up. All right?"
Slowly, she pulls her hand away from Doc's fragile body and stands up, wishing there is something more she can do. As she stands and watches him, she hears Doc's daughter outside of the room with a doctor. They are discussing his and his wife's injuries at length and Harley has to smile. She knows that he is in safe hands here.
Today at work, something is obviously off about Harley, the usual customers and the entire staff can tell. Lucy, one of her good friends at the diner and a Lady Shiva impersonator, has asked her if she feels all right, genuinely worried, but she just brushes off her concerns, saying it is just the weather that has gotten her in a sad mood. Of course, Lucy doesn't buy her lame excuse, but just decides to drop it, knowing that if Harley truly needs her help, she'll let her know.
Harley's smile doesn't have its usual brilliance, and everyone can tell that she is dreading coming into work today. And the usual touchy and perverted customers doesn't help lighten her mood.
For instance, those pricks on Table 5 have been leering at her all day, and they've gotten more and more blatant as the night approaches, their comments more personal, especially that balding asshole in the grey pinstriped suit. Throughout the day, they have practically ordered every item in the menú, and Harley has yet to see some cash. She has a gut feeling that these are the type of customers who dine and dash on the regular.
Well, she won't let them get away with it.
Harley is leaned up against the counter, tapping her pen against a notepad in boredom as she stares at the group of obnoxiously loud men, never once leaving them out of her sight. One of them throws a wolf whistle her way, and she bares her teeth at them, which causes him and his friends to burst out into laughter as if it is the funniest thing in the world.
These bastards need to be taught how to be respectful, and she is pretty sure her fist in their faces will do just the job – she'd be happy to do it. The chef on tonight's shift places their order right next to her on the counter. Not looking at him, she growls under her breath, watching the men on the table cackle as she approaches with what they have ordered, her tray full of hot food. As she hears what they are saying, the air around her shimmers with heat, and her low, animalistic rumbling growl startles the customers around her.
The herd of men look like fathers and husbands, all wearing wedding rings. They have been here since lunchtime and had personally asked for Harleen to be their waitress. To put it bluntly, they are a little more 'handsy' than she likes, and it is irritating her. She doesn't mind smiling and flirting a little, she understands it's part of the job, but they are taking it too far.
And this uniform she is wearing doesn't help. Harley is very comfortable with her body, and has no problem showing it off thank you very much, but this was a little too much, even for her. Her and the other employees had all given their measurements to the owner before the uniforms were ordered, but hers is more than a little on the small side, and she has a feeling that is entirely the restaurant owner's fault. That dirty old man.
One guy in particular at that table has her feeling very unsure of herself. He is tall and muscular, imposing, his black hair slicked back, and his fingers covered in gold rings. His appearance is impeccable, a crisp snow-white shirt under a dark grey pinstriped suit. He has the air of someone who always gets what he wants, and if it isn't given freely, he takes it. He reminds her of some of the Joker's business associates. Just looking at him makes her skin crawl.
When she first arrived to work, just when dinnertime was about to begin, he had been staring at her blatantly, not even trying to hide the leering grin as he took in the soft skin exposed by her uniform. She had to resist using her hands to cover herself; she is Harley Quinn, the Cupid of Crime, the Maid of Chaos and Mischief, and she will not let anyone make her feel small. She had looked him straight back in the eye, her chin pushed out defiantly; that usually worked when she caught someone perving at her on a job, but this man was different. He seemed to have taken it as a personal challenge.
As the hours passed by, he had grown more bold, touching on her hand and arm as she placed plates on the table, whispering his order to force her to lean forward a little so she could hear, saying things about her soft skin, her long legs, her golden hair. She could feel his eyes on her even as she waited on the other tables, and it made her feel vaguely dirtied, even though she had done nothing wrong. His friends seemed to encourage him, laughing a little about an hour ago when he had got a small squeak out of her when his hand had brushed the bare skin of her thigh in between her short skirt and thigh high stockings.
She had almost decided to talk to her manager about it but decided against it. She only has fifteen minutes left of her shift, and then she can finally go home. She can stick it out for the remaining minutes. And besides, she is in a crowded place and knows perfectly well how to defend herself. She hasn't done so because she knows how much she can't afford to lose this job, but these men are starting to reach her boiling point.
She can feel several eyes watching her as she carries the tray full of food over to the table of businessmen. She holds her head high as she approaches the table of men warily, a fake grin plastered on her face. This is her last table for the day, and then she won't have to come near them again.
"Okay, we got one Power Girl jumbo combo...", she begins, putting the first cup down, trying to stay as far out of hands reach as possible.
The man in the pin-striped suit is seated to her right, his hand reached out to grab her butt. It stays in the air as he watches her expression, just seconds away from touching her.
"... One Black Canary leg and thigh, with coleslaw," she continues as she spreads out the plates onto the table, just milliseconds away from being grabbed when she suddenly speaks out again, her face still turned away from the man inching in. "Gonna lose that hand, Stink." Her voice is cold and stern.
Her warning goes through one ear and out the other as the man in the pin-striped suit lets out a massive grin, thinking she is just playing hard to get, and inches his hand just a tad-bit closer to her bum. He is about to grab it when she out of nowhere spins around, grabs his arm and twists it around her small frame while yanking him out of the booth. Blinded with rage towards the men and how life has lead her to this, she grabs the nearest plate to her — a shrimp and taco dish — and smashes it into his head, causing it to shatter all around the perverted man.
The man's friends stare back at Harleen with eyes the size of big saucers, and she grins widely. She reaches into her black apron and pulls out a pen and a notepad like that didn't just happen. "Anything else for you today, boys?"
"Harley," a stern female voice growls out from behind the counter. Harls turns to find the manager glaring at her and red to the face. She has had it til here with the ex inmate and her disrespect towards her and the customers. "Pack your shit and go. Now."
Her and Harleen hold eye-contact, seeing who budges first. Her friend, Lucy stands by Table 2, worried evident on her face as she stands frozen, watching the scene play out. Harley catches her gaze, the first one to budge out of the staring contest once she realizes how the entire diner has fallen silent. Her nose flares angrily as she strides out of room and into the kitchen, tossing her apron in the process.
"That crazy broad broke my arm!" She hears the pin-striped suit man scream in disbelief, laying on the ground and holding his arm as she pushes open the kitchen door.
A street cat with a yellow coat and bright, white spots hisses and swipes for Harley's foot before bolting down a path to a pipe that leads to a park. The wind rustles the blond's soft hair, and she sighs softly, watching the feral cat disappear into the darkness. "Stupid cat," she scoffs, continuing down the sidewalk whilst holding a pen and a newspaper which contains a crossword puzzle on the back.
It is late enough that more than half of Gotham's population of people have already bedded down for the night. Only a handful of people are out tonight, such as homeless men and women, people with night jobs, and others taking their pets out for their last walk of the day.
Harleen observes her surroundings, watching people gather around shopfronts and talking in the streets. She doesn't know the time, but from the relative darkness, she supposes it is late enough that she should be sleeping. She bets if she swings by Tony's place, the man would be asleep instead of hanging in his usual spot by the front stairs. Even her pets are probably long out, dreaming of a better day.
Today in the morning, Harleen had decided she'd take a walk to work, thinking she needed the fresh air and exercise. But if she knew she'd be picking an extra shift today — and fired on top of that — she would've taken her convertible.
Pausing in front of a Big Cosmos restaurant, she stares up at the wooden sign, scrutinizing it for something that isn't going to be there, even if she stares at it for hours. Things like memories never appear when you can actually handle them, in her experience. Though, sometimes, they do rush back when she needs them. For a second, she swears she hears a chuckle behind her. That very specific tone is followed by the sound of boots crushing the dirt beneath their feet. When she turns, however, she lets out a breath she didn't noticed she'd been holding.
Victoria, her mind almost instantly screams at her. But she quickly dismisses the possibility of it being her. Victoria would've snatched her already if that was the case. She swallows down a heavy lump that has magically appeared in her throat, thinking she had just imagined it.
Shaking her head almost violently, she balls her fists to give herself something else to focus on, turning away and starting for the bus station. It is better than walking alone at night, she supposes. The brisk night air, the abundant lack of people, it all melts into the background, even as she appreciates it silently. Her arms feel chilly, maybe even numb, as she lifts them up and continues her word puzzle.
Waiting around at the bus station waiting area for twenty minutes wasn't part of the plan, but at last she is just a couple blocks away from her apartment building. Shaking her head again, she crosses her arms and pushes herself off of a wall, frowning heavily as she stomps back towards the road leading to the main portion of the slums. Maybe a solid night at Tony's place will do her some good — anything to help her distract herself from her cold hard reality.
It isn't until she passes Madame Macabre's wax museum that she hears what can only be called determined footsteps behind her. Itchy fingers tense her cross word puzzle and Harley bites her lip. If anyone is following her, they are probably in just as much of a bad spot as she is. Oh, do they have another thing coming. She doesn't feel like killing anyone tonight, she isn't in the mood.
But the stubborn footsteps follow her past the museum and up the way she usually takes towards the building. She clenches her jaw, growing angry with the sound of footsteps approaching. If it isn't Victoria, then it must be one of her men. A cat yowls somewhere to her right, bolting and clambering into a seemingly innocuous pile of scrap and buckets. The crashing has her on high alert, and her hand bolts to the comfort found in the grip of a can of pepper spray in her pocket.
Closing her hand around the familiar bottle, she turns into a dark alleyway, disappearing from the stranger's view. She stands mid-way, standing with her face turned to them and her hands in her pockets. It seems as though someone has made it to the top of her hit list tonight.
"You can come on out," she says calmly. "I know you're there. I got good ears. Your hearing gets mighty sharp in Arkham. Things go bump in the night."
After a moment of no response, she finally turns to see who has been following her so doggedly. What she finds surprises her more than anything else she could have seen in the dark alley.
Underneath the dim lights is none other than Edward Cullen, the only man in the entire world who has caused her so much pain. He stares at her with an emotion she cannot quite capture, like he has finally met what he has been searching for all of his life, and gives the kind of blinding smile that would make the sun jealous. And she just stares back at him, completely dumbfounded.
"Hello, Harleen," he says in his usual honey-smooth voice. "Long time no see."
Harley swallows the lump in her throat as she slowly releases her strong grip on the pepper spray and then folds her arms. "I'd like to keep it that way," she replies, narrowing an unhappy, almost accusatory glare on the handsome vampire.
He takes a single step forward, and she responds by taking one back. There is a lengthy distance between the two.
"You're a hard girl to find. Pretty clever, hiding in plain sight like that," he speaks again. Silence. "... Truthfully, I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't found you. Spending every day without you was like living without air, without the sun, the moon... I've missed you, Harleen. Please, come back to me. You do not need to hide any more." Somewhere in the desperate tone of his voice, Harley can see that he sounds genuine. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to find you, and then Alice told me where you were and I just couldn't stop myself from coming back to you. Harleen, I've missed you."
Harley Quinn can feel herself drowning in his words of love and regret, but just as she is about to fall into his trap, she picks herself back up again. "Save it, honey. I don't mix it up with the costume crowd anymore. I turned over a new leaf, as it were. If you think I'm gonna scurry along wit' 'cha jus' because ya asked me to, well you're wrong! You are dead to me, Edward Cullen. Dead! Deceased! Barren! Muerto!" Her voice is a hiss, just like the cat that had fled from her earlier, and her arms cross over more.
Edward wears a heart-wrenching, pleading look on his face. "Please, come back to me, my Harleen. I promise I will never flee from you again." He offers a sad smile, stepping a little closer and holding out his hand.
"Nuh-uh. I am done with wolves and bats and revengeful, maniacal, blood-sucking vampires! Just trying like hell to lead a normal life." She is not having any of this, as much as her soul and heart wants her to run back into his arms and let him carry her back home like a princess in distress. She shifts her weight to her right foot, leaning away with a huff as a show of annoyance.
"Harleen, please listen to me. You need to come back, my dear. Bella needs you, Charlie needs you... I need you. They are searching for you everywhere. Waller has all of Forks surrounded with policemen, but it is not too late. It is not late for you to come back and ask for forgiveness. Harleen, please listen to me. I can help you if you will just let me." Taking a couple of lazy steps forward, Edward bends just slightly at the waist to meet those downturned eyes, and his hands take her cheeks in the smooth palm of his hand.
She ignores the little spark that imitates from their contact and just scoffs, pulling her face back in disingenuous disgust. "Don't you dare touch me, butt-wipe! Run your muddy little hands over me again and I will have to mop the streets o' Gotham with your scrawny little bat body!"
Against her wishes, he returns his hands to her cheeks. This time, Harley does nothing to shake free of his hands. Instead, she just purses her lips slightly, frowning seconds later. There is a certain familiarity in the way that Edward invites himself into her life, into her personal space, and she finds it oddly comforting to lean into those hands. She sighs, knowing that she cannot fight the urge any longer. "How's Alice? And Rosalie?"
"They are fine. Do not worry." Edward grins, perking considerably as he pulls Harley into a hug. The sudden grip around her has her stiff, jaw clenched and hands held tight at her sides. In the flick of a switch, she begins to remember all that Edward has put her through from the break up to Victoria on her tail. "It feels good to have you close, my love," he whispers against her ear, and she gulps slightly, her hands balling into fists.
Still stiff but maybe less so, Quinn sighs again, feeling her face grow hot and heavy with rage. She is half tempted to return the embrace, but that quickly diminishes when Edward plants his lips on top of hers. In a quick set of motions, she slips from his arms and performs a quick twirl before pushing back the vampire with her incredibly heavy purse. Her crossword puzzle falls out and onto the floor, by Edward's feet who is now laying on the ground.
A crazed look flashes over her face and stays there for a few seconds before it is quickly replaced by the look of pure rage and anger. Her pale hand digs into her bag before pulling out a pair of black, twenty-five pound heavy hand weights. He seems shocked as he looks up at her, his mouth open just slightly. She grins widely as she simply drops it by his feet, her eyes deadly.
"Sorry, Eddie, but you're getting the payback for every pinch, goose and butt-slap I've gotten for the last couple a' months." As she speaks, she removes her coat, revealing her skimpy work uniform.
"Harleen..."
As the last words leave his mouth, he ducks just in time to dodge Harley's black leather purse. He looks over at it, but doesn't get much time to dwell on it as he finds himself dodging his former lover's punches and doing anything to keep himself from being in contact with her fists. Because he is too busy focusing on her hits, he is taken back as she suddenly grabs one of the weights lying beside him and smacks him across the face with it. A small crack forms on the object, but his marble-like face stays squeaky clean. Harley's grunts of frustration are heard in the alleyway as she goes for another hit, but is suddenly stopped and pinned to the ground.
Harley doesn't fight against his grip, but instead reaches into her pocket and throws a few razor edged playing cards at Edward who's reflexes causes him to jump back in order to dodge them.
"All right," she starts as she hops on her feet and lurches forward, slamming him back onto the floor and holding him down as much as she can, all though she knows he is way stronger and faster than her. The only reason why she isn't dead right now and instead in control of this fight is because he allows her to. In any moment, his vampire instincts can kick in and change his mind. "Land 0' Goshen. Look at what we have here. Here we have the typical male aggressor, fittingly imprisoned within the bonds of female domestic slavery. Poor, ol' bats. All trussed up. And no place to go." Edward looks like he is finding some sort of sick amusement in this. It's the clown's theatrics that gets him. "Admit it, darling, you never thought a woman was capable of bringing you down, nonetheless a human."
"Man or woman, a sick mind is capable of anything," he responds simply, drowning in her eyes.
She chuckles, throwing her head back. "A very enlightened statement, B-man. I'll make sure ta carve it on your headstone. Aloha, sucker." She is about to reach into her other pocket for something to knock him out with, but he catches her by surprise by rolling over which results in him being on top of her once more.
He smirks down at her, pinning her arms to the ground. "Give up," he questions, but she just smirks even wider.
"Just when things are getting interesting," she claps back without hesitation, rolling on top of him. "Fat chance!" She grabs the lid of a nearby trashcan and is about to hit him with it when he suddenly pushes her off of him and stands on his feet. She doesn't think about it too much as she throws the lid like a frisbee his way, but he gracefully dodges it, causing it to hit the wall behind him before it comes flying back at her like a boomerang. Harley has no time to react as the heavy top bangs loudly against her head. She is knocked back a couple steps, groaning in pain as she rubs her forehead.
"Ready to call it a night, Harley?" She looks up to find Edward staring back at her with his arms crossed, his eyes now sad and caring.
Oh that bi-polar mother — she quietly thinks to herself. She isn't ready to finish this. Instead, she keeps fighting, throwing trash his way, things such as food, cans and beer bottles, all of which he dodges. At one point she is seen messing with one of the cans before tossing it at him — this one finally hits him.
"Huh," he hums in confusion, looking at the can which has stuck to his leg. He looks back at Harleen, bewildered. What has she done to him? Suddenly, he begins to laugh — wildly! He had been too busy dodging the pieces of trash that he didn't notice Harley messing with one of the cans with her other hand.
Quinn can only laugh herself and smile. "What's so funny, Chuckles," she asks him, but he just continues to laugh, his laughter turning louder and more wilder by the second. "Some girls like mace. I prefer a little low-grain Joker venom." As she explains, she reveals to him a tiny metal disk on her hand, it's tack having been pierced into the can. "Only useful thing I ever got from that ass-hat. Nighty-night, jerk."
"Oh, Harley," Edward manages to say in between his laughing fit. "What have you turned into, my dear?"
Those are the last words he lets out before he blacks out, much to her sadistic satisfaction.
FIN