Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Harry and Harley, Chapters 11 and 12 By Rihaan Shimomura

   I don't recommend reading the story in this format, as it doesn't have
italics or bolds or anything else I may try to add to the story format.  I
recommend going to
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Rihaan_Shimomura/Stories/HandH/ to read
this.  But hey, if you want to read it this way, that's your prerogative.

   Chapter 11: Honest Complications

   ~*The Previous Day*~

   Alfred Pennyworth's hands trembled at the computer, his eyes still
trying to comprehend what was happening in front of him.  He finally looked
away, and his lips quivered as he breathed.

   He knew what he was looking at, and he was the only one who could
clearly see it; he was watching the destruction of the Batman, and more
importantly, the breakdown of Bruce Wayne.

   He had been watching since that very morning, when his ward sat up and
abruptly left towards the bat cave.  It was fifteen long, silent minutes,
considering his options, before Alfred left the doorway and followed into
the bookcase.  While the bat cave was already devoid of the vigilante and
the BatWing, one of the computer screens brought up his live feed.  The
cowl provided the sights and sounds of the Batman, constantly recording for
future reference and analysis.

   And at first, Alfred thought he was staring at a video - maybe a picture
with static interference.  It only took him a few seconds to recognize the
scene, however, and for the only time that day, a smile came to the
Englishman and a lighter feeling overwhelmed him.

   A single bouquet of red roses sat upon the cobblestone ground, its
bright plumage contrasting the dark gray surroundings.  The brightness in
the dark.

   Alfred watched as the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne paid his respects
in humble silence, as the rain pattered around him, as it was that very
fateful night.

   There were many, many things that Alfred regretted that night - one of
them bringing about his utter dislike for vacations, time off, and other
such distractions - but the one thing that he truly regretted was never
considering therapy.

   It was his fault, he realized, knowing it even then, the dangers of a
child exposed to such a tragedy, the feeling of being alone and abandoned,
deserted, having his childhood /stolen/.  His life taken away, every bit as
much as his parents.

   The Waynes had perished that night; all three of them.  Young Bruce,
unfortunately, had to keep up the façade of living.  Of /caring/.

   The young prodigy could handle himself, Alfred remembered that he was
sure of it.  When he was trying to face his fears - standing on top of the
manor to conquer his fear of heights, putting his hand in flames to rid his
fear of pain - Alfred had taken it as a logical way to cope with his
haywire emotions, to prepare himself for the harsh world around him.

   He wasn't expecting this.  No one could have.

   Even when Bruce decided to leave home to travel abroad, Alfred saw his
eyes.  Lifeless - devoid of purpose or meaning.  He had tried as hard as he
could, but a replacement, he was not.  Alfred was almost sure he would
never see the young lad again.

   He heard voices.  The butler reminded himself what was happening and
briskly walked to the panel to turn up the volume.  It would not do to have
Batman kneeling in Crime Alley, the infamous location of the Waynes'
deaths. Before he could go for the headset to alert him, the camera moved
quickly, and before he could recognize the swift release of air that was
the grapnel gun, Bruce was already planting his feet on the roof.

   "/...If there's anything magic taught me, is that everything's a riddle.
I wouldn't be surprised if the veil is one giant ruddy puzzle./"

   Alfred recognized that voice.  He had seen it live mere hours ago.

   The Warlock.

   While the cowl couldn't see them - and thankfully so, considering what
happened the last time he was caught spying - he could only guess that the
entire group was there.  It was only confirmed as female voices were picked
up.

   So, there they were, in front of the run-down and closed theater in the
middle of the day, mere meters away from the Batman, who had only less than
half-an-hour ago had chosen to visit.

   /Why?/

   That sobering thought stabbed through Alfred like a knife of ice.

   Thinking of the ramifications of what exactly could be happening here -
an untraceable tracking device placed somewhere on his suit, or the idea of
him dealing with a true psychic being a few of the scenarios - Alfred went
to sit down in the chair, numbly staring at the screen.

   It was practically a horror movie, watching as Bruce tried to get a
visual of the couple, hopping over the stone banister and spying over the
ledge, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't see the trio anywhere, even
as they continued talking.

   The feed blurred by the time the sidewalk got into view, and Alfred had
to squint at the footage.

   When Bruce turned away, it went back to normal.  As he stayed on the
roof, his back against the banister, Alfred assumed that he was simply just
listening to the rest of the conversation.

   It seemed that they had business there that was completely unrelated to
Wayne - business that Warlock was clearly frustrated about, and the women
seemed to sympathize with.

   Abstract pieces that Alfred had managed to keep up with: He can raise
the dead.  He and his partners were lovers.  They planned on recruiting
Riddler to help Warlock get back to his home...  'dimension', their words,
through a vortex or rift of some sort.  He had a crystal clear connection
with a woman who seemed fond of him, from his home dimension, and they were
killing other government officials for the sake of finding the correct
path.

   And if he somehow managed to return, he's planning on starting a mutiny
and claiming the power for his own by killing the 'Dark Lord.' A King of a
sort that he had affectionately named, no doubt.

   None of these things managed to get him unconcerned.  The only useful
information in their favor he was able to gather was this mystery man's
name - /Harry/ - and the woman through the connection - Tonks.  And they
were planning on finding Riddler.

   That was all he could gather before the still invisible trio seemed to
have left the scene, and he couldn't even sink into his thoughts before
they returned and entered the theater.

   When Bruce followed them in, Alfred stepped away for a moment and took
the elevator up.  He could only deal with so much.

   He couldn't really explain to /himself/ why he came back, but he knew
that for the rest of the day, as he checked in and out on the Wayne heir's
progress, thugs previously associated with the Riddler, formerly known as
Enigma, were harassed until they told what they knew.

   It was by nighttime when Bruce had heard about the warehouse.

   Roman Sionis, a man that Master Wayne claimed that he was nothing like,
was also waiting for the insane genius, with several armed men scattered
about, ripping through everything in the facility.  Before Bruce could
logically assess the situation, his cowl focused on /her/ lingering at the
doorway, before she stealthily leaped into the shadows, even escaping his
intense gaze.

   And, even in this situation, he had to admit that things had just gotten
a bit more interesting.

   It was confounding, really.  No matter how much he protested the
Master's nightly escapades, he couldn't deny that it was at those moments
that he seemed the most /human/.  Bruce's cover as a playboy billionaire,
was exactly as it seemed to him - a cover.  Even as he brought home foreign
models and actresses - not wanting to be closely associated with anyone in
Gotham - he knew that they would not stay long.  His smile was fake, his
laughter was, while not forced, far from genuine, and the genius with the
airhead persona and stiff acting usually bored his partner eventually, or
he patiently waited until they left him.

   Before he met Andrea Beaumont, at least.  And that made him happy for a
while, until life got in the way once again.  Or should he say death, more
specifically, of her father.  She left him to travel the world, and it went
back into routine for him.

   But Selina Kyle - or as she wanted to be referred to, /the Catwoman/, as
some sort of sick homage to the man who inspired her to put on a mask - was
what made everything so confounding.  A criminal with a predilection for
taking whatever she wanted, and doing it by any means necessary.

   Of course, Bruce was not outwardly fazed by her in the slightest, but
Alfred had seen and heard their conversations.

   He could honestly say that, in their interactions with each other, their
/flirting/, combined with his desperation for her to reform, that Catwoman
was the sole source for Batman's most human moments.  Maybe because she was
a woman, or maybe because she had never killed, so he didn't view her as a
true villain, but the results were always there.

   And it worried Alfred that maybe one day, it wouldn't be Catwoman that
turned to his side, but Batman that would turn to hers.

   Maybe it was a ridiculous suspicion, but stranger things have happened,
much like the idea of a woman dressed as a cat and a man dressed as a bat
falling for each other on the sides of good and evil.  Perhaps, one day,
this would become a trivial sentence, but he'd be beholden to say that it
wouldn't happen anytime soon - for the sake of his own sanity.

   It took a slight moment to notice the soft glow of the green eyes that
stared directly at him.  Well, at Bruce.  Going by the build, it could have
only been Warlock.

   And it happened again.

   Alfred, the incredibly patient man that he was, gritted his teeth as
Bruce antagonized the young man again, and flinched as he began to yell,
clearly loud enough that Sionis could hear him.

   Watching Bruce swing and leap and traverse his way through a hailstorm
of bullets did little to qualm his fear, but a swift punch to the head of
the Black Mask ended the short battle.

   In the confusion, both the Warlock and Catwoman had disappeared.  Alfred
still wasn't too sure if it was a good or bad thing.  The thugs, taken out
of commission, could not have all been taken out by the Batman, and maybe
that was a sign of good news - if it wasn't just confirmed that Warlock now
had a hold of the Riddler.

   Nevertheless, he knew his duty - the masked villain was being tied to
one of the posts, waiting for the pickup by the GPD.  It was time to make
an anonymous tip.

   Really, you think they would have at least tried to triangulate the
source of the call by now, given how many times he had phoned in.

   And thus, Alfred took the elevator once again, to indulge in his
Master's hobby once more, playing along in a game that had gone on for far
too long.

   But he had made a promise, just as much as Bruce had.  And, perhaps, the
promises they made would one day kill the both of them.

   -----------------------

   The woman known to the most notorious city in the world as Poison Ivy,
was usually considered a bit of a tease - and not for no good reason.  Her
daring choice of dress, her luscious figure, her tantalizing gaze, her
exotic skin tone, her dulcet, occasionally breathy voice, and, for a
surprising many, her dangerous past, made for the ultimate sex machine - at
least, in concept.  No one had ever been lucky enough to get a kiss from
the mint-green goddess and stay alive, much less explore her body and
discover how much of a sultry minx she could be.

   None, except two.  And Pamela writhed wildly on the Queen bed as her two
lovers caressed and nipped at her bare body, teasing her enough to last a
few lifetimes.

   Oddly enough, the three had gotten into a comfortable pattern quickly
when it came to each other's needs, transitioning with little difficulty
and keeping it from getting too confusing when it came to tending to each
other.  Harley, remembering the previous night, decided to go for her
girlfriend's top half this time, while Harry was transfixed with the
vixen's long, supple legs.

   Ivy gasped and moaned as Harley kissed and sucked at her vulnerable
neck, taking her time as she closed her eyes and focused on the most
sensitive of spots.  Harry, lying between Ivy's legs, skimmed his fingers
along her inner thighs, working his unnatural tongue in circles on the tiny
lines of blood vessels along her legs.

   Her sex was on fire, and her nipples were aching to be touched, but
Harley had commanded her not to do it herself - she was at their mercy
tonight.

   She didn't really know what to feel about letting them take control, but
she knew she wasn't against it; and now, shaking under their ministrations,
her hips rolling and grinding against the cool air, her breasts heaving and
wobbling like a candle's flame, flickering in the wind; she was beginning
to like what they were doing so far.

   Then, without warning, Harry gently grabbed her thighs and wiggled his
tongue against her clitoral hood, which had long ago peeked out to be
noticed.  Harry gave his undivided attention with his lips, and Pamela
began thrashing underneath them both.

   Harley, never the one to be without an impact, seized her breasts and
palmed her massive tits with glee, before - /finally/ - focusing her tongue
on her dark green areolae and rock-hard nipples.

   Ivy's eyes opened and she let out a gasp as her body was assaulted - her
senses ran wild with abandon.  Her lips quivered, much like her hungry sex
as she was put up as an offering to her two lovers.  She was no stranger to
the art of self-pleasure, nor was she a stranger to ministrations to or
from Harley, but she could more than safely admit that Harry brought a new
perspective into their relationship - not detracting, as she had long ago
feared, but adding a whole lot more.  Granted, 'long ago' meaning a bit
less than two days, but it had been a hell of some forty-odd hours for her
- for all of them.

   The trio deserved a little down-time.  And luckily, they started on her.
And she was /oh so/ pleasantly reminded as Harry gave the /tiniest/ nibble
on her sensitive clit, while Harley rubbed her pixyish nose around her
nipple in a way that left her whimpering.

   They were assaulting her purest pleasure spots, and yet, they still
managed to find ways to tease her.

   Last night aside, she wasn't a very submissive being, so she felt the
need to voice her agony.  "S-stop teasing me!  Get - ah...  on with it!"

   Harry and Harley's eyes briefly met over a horizon of green skin, and
with as much as a mischievous grin they could muster with their mouths
attached to body parts, they acquiesced to the quivering girl's demands.

   The wizard slowly spread opened her delicate labia lips, like a flower.
Her green petals were wet with dew, that looked absolutely beautiful, and
he was reminded of what Harley said once about their lover.  His tongue
began to eagerly search for that sweet watermelon-like taste of the girl
under him.

   At the same time, Harley's tongue ran along her long-time girlfriend's
soft skin, somewhat addicted to her taste, and closed her eyes at the
feeling it gave her.

   In some ways, Ivy was like a plant in itself, and maybe she didn't even
notice it.  When she was aroused, her pores released secretions, much like
sweat, except it was like no sweat she knew of.  It was like a type of
honeydew, Harleen figured, having no other references, not as big on plant
life studies as her lover.

   Still, she sucked on her girlfriend's skin like a bee to nectar, putting
aside the ridiculous thought that bees and flies might actually be
attracted to this unique scent with the pheromones she let off.  Her tongue
flittered and fluttered between the valley of her massive breasts up to her
throat, and back again, pausing to grab at the sides of her mammaries and
pushing them together, her face trapped in between.

   Unintentionally, she was mirroring Harry, his head betwixt Ivy's thighs
and his tongue deep in her slick crevice, wriggling and stabbing into her
in the most pleasurable of ways.

   Pamela, upon reflection, realized that she had bitten off more than she
could chew.

   Harleen siphoned her favorite drink off of her favorite gal, motor
boating the perfectly big tits that she herself was glad she didn't have,
and was /ecstatic/ she'd always have access to.  Her tongue slowly rolled
across the microscopic imperfections of the green girl below her, Ivy's
pulsing veins tingling her taste buds.  Currently clothed in only a
slightly oversized t-shirt and a pair of royal blue panties with white
stars on them, her own slick womanhood was vulnerable to her encroaching
fingers, and she slid a digit smoothly into her underwear to frig herself
as she pleasured her girl.

   Harry's tongue continued to slam inside Ivy with a force that she was
sure a tongue could never have, with a depth that she was utterly convinced
could only be achieved by a spell.  He had given them a taste - pun
intended - of his Parselmouth abilities, and he had learned to parse out
the skill in an intense moment, as it tended to cause unconsciousness.  A
slow hum in Parseltongue was the most effective technique, since he could
avoid closing his mouth for another syllable.

   Also, it tended to get messy when he had a vibrating tongue.  As it
turned out, a lot of girls had a certain spot that made them squirt and
spasm harder than they could possibly imagine, and Harry had an uncanny
penchant for finding that spot.

   Seconds later, that proved to be true with Pamela as well.  As Harry's
tongue stimulated every nerve ending inside of her, bumping and vibrating
her pussy walls with absurd proficiency, Ivy writhed and came onto Harry's
tongue, screaming into Harley's mouth as her tasty fluids gushed into
Harry's.  She held Harley tight, reaching out and squeezing her ass cheek
and marveled at the tight, pliant flesh under her fingers.

   Ivy knew her girl's handful-sized breasts were going to one day turn
into something more spectacular than they were already, but she really
didn't want Harley's ass to ever change.

   Harley coo'ed and ah'ed under Ivy's ministrations when a single digit
slipped into her slippery petals, but was grateful for the slow pace, still
sore from their last tryst.  Her self-healing abilities were stretched thin
as much as they both were, so she commiserated with the girl.  Though, it
seemed that Harry's magic tongue was at least a partial cure, or at least
could give her a different reason to walk funny.

   Her legs twitched in spasms as Harry slowly crawled up her body and
around Harley, caressing the outside of her stems as his over-achieving
oral muscle licked up the left side, taking care to stop at her large
breast, picking up where Harley left off.

   "F-fuck!" Harley squealed, "So /good/!" Ivy didn't realize that she had
sped up the pace of her deft fingers, but she didn't seem to mind.  "/Keep
doing that, baby~~~!/"

   Harry's lips finally settled for Ivy's, which she had no objections to,
slurping at Harry's tongue with a passion.  She reached down with her free
hand and began to stroke her boyfriend's massive erection fervently, her
body hungry for more, and her lovers fed off her energy like nectar.

   With Harley bouncing languidly on her fingers, and Harry beginning to
slam into her fist like a fresh cocksleeve against her naturally secreting
palms - perks of being 'more in tune' with nature - Ivy connected to the
two in a way she never felt before.  Their first true threesome was
underway, and if Harry's powerful strokes were any indication, they seemed
to be in for a long night.

   -----------------------

   Ivy stared at the tea in a daze.

   The previous night was...  tiring to say the least.  While her body wore
the scars in the most uncomfortable places, it was a good hurt.  Harley was
gentle with her walk to the kitchen table as well, and even Harry
discovered a crook in his neck when he awoke.  It was the only indication
of fatigue he had ever shown so far, and the girls marked it up as a
partial victory, even though they swore that he was the last to fall asleep
while they slumbered in unconsciousness.  Even he admitted that he felt
skittish all day yesterday, insisting that there was always more to do.

   She smirked to herself.  Perhaps she should consider /all/ options when
it came to their lovemaking, and do away with restricted areas.

   Still, they had a mission to complete, and if everything went right, a
mission to celebrate when they got home.

   Though she had to admit, it didn't seem like one of the greatest crimes
in Gotham's history was about to be committed today.

   The morning was calm.  There were no cop cars surrounding their house,
no nosy cat ladies waiting for the right time to make herself known, nor
was there a bat waiting in the shadows for the perfect time to strike -
something that Ivy and Harry repeatedly had to promise to Harley that they
would warn her of next time /that/ happened - and so life, for them at
least, proceeded to be normal.

   In a house with a wizard, a plant-human hybrid, an A-grade criminal
schoolgirl, a cat burglar, a melancholy prodigy, a reporter, a tiger, a
lion, and a snow leopard - it appeared to be a normal morning.  So far.

   Though, looking around the magically expanded table, Ivy had to admit
that this was a bit overwhelming.  This ragtag group of criminal
masterminds was somewhat...  strange, even for her.  A sight like this was
rare to see, even in Blackgate - being contained together all at once had
never happened before.  Ivy hoped it never would.

   Blackgate's finest criminal minds were in the room with her: Harleen,
next to her, surreptitiously feeding Juliet with a piece of bacon.  Eddie,
grumbling to himself about his insurance.  Selina, drinking a bottle of
milk and pouring a small puddle on the floor for Sasha to drink.  Harry,
inspecting the vine that had taken a liking to him, petting the wriggling
appendage not unlike a cat, while Twilight kneeled at his chair.  Vale, due
to her allergies, had chosen to eat in the living room.

   Her eyes rounded the room for a few more moments, before she finally
shrugged.  This would take some getting used to.

   Especially Eddie.  If she was honest with herself, when she recommended
him to help them out with their problem, she wasn't planning on him moving
in with them, but it was the only condition that he could allow, in order
to escape Black Mask's employment into their protection - well, that, and
solve a riddle.

   She was rather uncomfortable with another man in her house, and while
she was comfortable with the man himself, having been trapped in a prison
cell across from his for many months, she didn't like the idea of him being
just down the hallway from her room at all times.  Especially if Harleen
decided to expand relationship territory again.

   She smirked.  Her dear Harley.  The girl had good instincts, for sure,
attracting the attention of Harry Potter.  But Pamela would be damned if
/Riddler/ was added to the list of men she would have to get used to,
/intimately/, for her adventurous girlfriend's sake.

   Ivy finished her tea and sat back.  The vine that was currently catering
to them was too predisposed, still letting Harry stroke her.  She rolled
her eyes with a tilt of a smile and summoned another tendril to flawlessly
pick up where the other left off.

   Harley nibbled on a piece of bacon.  "So," she inquired, "what's on the
schedule for today, besides Blackgate?  I was thinking of a few more ideas
for the house...."

   The green-skinned teen shook her head.  "We're already dealing with a
mansion, Harley.  What did we miss?"

   Harry spoke, his attention still on the vine.  "Unfortunately, I don't
think I'm quite powerful enough to get all of that done in a day.  That
boundless energy I had yesterday seems to come and go.  I'll need
Hermione's half on some bits, so I'd have to wait until our connection's
stronger.  It'll be soon enough.  In the meantime, I can set up a few
things, but it'll take the whole afternoon and a bit of the evening."

   Edward looked up from his laptop.  "Connection problem?  Seems fine to
me.  I'm watching a live feed of our broadcast right now.  Still
unchallenged!"

   Pamela looked at him weirdly.  "We don't have internet, Eddie."

   He smirked as he took a sip of coffee.  "You do, now; since twenty
minutes ago.  I can assure you that you couldn't get any faster if you
wired directly into a satellite."

   Harry blinked.  "I've rarely been on the computer when I got the chance,
in some libraries.  But what's a live feed?"

   The man had a peculiar gleam in his brown eyes, and Pam crossed her
arms. "Now you've done it...."

   "Hold on!" Harleen raised up a hand.  "Ed, it's a magic thing, not a
tech thing.  The connection he was referring to was mental.  You two can
have your little tutoring session in a minute." She looked over to Harry.
"Blackgate can wait, can't it?  Their security is more lax at night.  I'd
imagine that the sooner Eddie helps us with our portal problem, the better,
right?"

   Harry nodded, remembering the conversation he had with Daphne, Tracey,
and Fleur.  "They've almost figured it out, but they need someone on their
end.  That can wait, too.  They're in class right now."

   The blonde looked towards her girlfriend.  "Red?  What do you think? 
Daytime siege?  Or should we check in on our new friend at GPD?"

   The redhead pondered to herself for a moment.  "Perhaps a night attack
would seem predictable.  I don't think they'll be expecting an attack this
soon - we never even hinted at a Blackgate outbreak.  Plus they seem a
bit...  distracted at the moment.  Though I imagine the prisoners have
heard about what we've done, and might be planning a mutiny."

   Selina leaned against the table.  "Then /we/ start the mutiny before
they can; put them in our debt.  Make them think that we didn't forget the
little people."

   Harleen nodded.  "And the not-so-little.  Makes sense.  Red?  Harry?"

   "I need blueprints," The green-eyed wizard warned.  "And I need the
areas marked for the ones that I'm looking for, specifically.  You said you
had one in mind, Pamela?"

   She stood from the table, and retightened her robe, self-conscious of
the crowded house.  "Two, actually, but one is at Blackgate.  I couldn't
tell you his cell number, but he should be in the same block." She looked
around the table.  "Ready for your first mission?"

   Eddie sniffed.  "If it's Killer Croc, count me out.  Or Deadshot."

   "I'd rather we have people on our team that can actually listen to
orders.  Neither fits our criteria.  The person I have in mind will work
well with us, I expect."

   "Nice suspense," Selina muttered.  "So what's the plan going in?  Eddie
runs interference while I set the distraction?  Or are we making
helicopters explode and setting more things on fire?"

   Harry tickled the underside of the vine, not unlike scratching a snake's
neck, and it wiggled accordingly.  "Didn't realize I've become a novelty,"
he responded.  "I'll have to change that.  Won't be a one hit wonder."

   "Then it's time to hit harder than we've ever had before," Harley
grinned.  "Ready when you guys are."

   "...That's it?"

   She raised an eyebrow at the smartest man in the room.  "What? 
Expecting pay?"

   The bespectacled man shook his head, annoyance on his features.  "No,
dear girl, I was expecting /consequences/.  You're just going to let us go?
Trust us to stay with our designated tasks and help with our fullest
capabilities?  Not even going to give us a psychiatric exam, or at the very
least, some sort of incentive to make sure the mission goes unobstructed
and immaculately?  Tsk, tsk."

   Harry tilted his head.  "That didn't work for you.  You just betrayed
Black Mask to work for us.  I imagine a reward and a punishment was put in
place?"

   Edward waved it off, closing the laptop in front of him.  "That may be.
I did betray him; when faced with three large jungle cats, a bioweapon, a
jester with a bazooka, a woman who thinks she has nine lives and nothing to
lose, and a man who obviously doesn't know the basic laws of Physics and
Science enough to obey them." He eyed everyone at the table.  "I recommend
an explosive collar."

   Selina rolled her eyes.  "And let me guess - you'll be making them."

   Everyone in the room could see his dimples as he smiled.  "Of course, my
feline friend!  In fact, I've got the schematics written up in my room.  It
should only take an hour or so to have a working prototype."

   "And I trust that you'll be the first subject of the test collar?" Harry
asked, almost genuinely.  "I'm not exposing anyone to a collar that may or
may not work."

   The man adorned in the bowler hat - even at the breakfast table - could
only scoff.  "/All/ of my inventions work.  I can guarantee that."

   Pamela sipped lightly on her tea.  "We're going to have a talk, Eddie,
on why you happen to have collar schematics, considering that most of your
physical items were destroyed in the warehouse.  Did you always plan on
using them for this?  Or did you plan on enacting some unauthorized
domestication?"

   Harley scoffed.  "Yeah, sure.  Like Juliet would let /that/ happen." At
the uncomfortable silence, she looked up from feeding said Sumatran Tiger,
in favor of eyeing the self-aggrandizing puzzle master.  "I was joking,
Riddles.  You were supposed to laugh there."

   He chuckled nervously.  "Ah, yes, well, I suppose that would be a
ridiculous folly, were I to actually try to collar your pet."

   The tiger purred, and Harry chuckled.  "Language, Jules."

   Another uncomfortable silence.  Harleen tsk'ed.  "We still need to talk
about the whole 'I can turn into a cat at will and never bothered to tell
anyone' thing.  Still mildly freaked out about the whole thing."

   Harry sat back in his chair, and the snow leopard leaned against his
leg. "If you knew, it wouldn't be as fun."

   She opened her mouth.  Then closed it.  Then opened it again, holding
her hand up to annunciate her words better.  She faltered.  Then she sighed
in resignation.  "Yeah, that's fair."

   Selina rolled her eyes and left the table.  "Tell me when you're ready.
My costume's not exactly made for daytime, and a bikini seems a bit too
inappropriate for the job, and, uh...  Green's not a good color on me.  You
rock it well, sweetie, but black is the best bet for me." She crossed her
arms and leaned against the wall.  "So you can heal up gunshot victims like
new - thanks for that, by the way - and you're a hell of a human pyro
that'll make Firefly your best friend.  But how's your taste for fashion?"

   "I have green claw marks all over black and red clothes.  Fashion isn't
a strong point for me."

   Selina shrugged nonchalantly.  "That's the style these days, isn't it?
Ripped, torn up a little.  Sexy."

   "This one's on me," Harley acknowledged.  "You took away my chance to
dress you up, Harry.  I'll make the design, you dress her up."

   "Oh, Harley," Selina purred, "I'd much rather you dress me up.  He's
cute and all, and he's got magic hands, but I'd appreciate a more... 
/feminine/ touch."

   She held up a spoon and a fork and held them perpendicular to each
other, pointing the makeshift cross at the leering seductress.  "Down,
kitty.  Don't make me collar your ass."

   The thief showed her teeth in her smile.  "You don't have to tame me. 
All you have to do is ask."

   Pamela shook her head - aware that she'd probably be doing that a lot
more times today - and crossed her arms.  "Kyle, you're starting to sound
desperate."

   "Relax, Pammy," she winked, "it's just harmless flirting.  I imagine
that for the next long stretch, we'll be under one roof for a while, unless
Magic Man decides to build a whole city out of Lincoln Logs."

   Harry wrinkled his nose.  "You know, I just might.  Just to show you I
could."

   "So I figured," Selina continued, pointedly looking away from the
wizard, "I can't bring any guests over.  One of these days, this kitty's
gonna need a playmate.  Just laying out the groundwork is all."

   "Yes," Poison Ivy said dully.  "With my girlfriend."

   She threw a thumb back at the person she was distinctly ignoring. 
"Worked out well for him."

   "I'm charming," Harry quipped immediately.  "You're just horny.  And
your puns, or 'pick-up lines' as you call them, are terrible."

   "Yes, you're /very/ charming," Selina drawled in sarcasm.  "And
nothing's wrong with my puns.  It's my thing.  You just don't get it."

   Harry nodded over to Eddie.  "You could always try him.  You two have a
lot in common."

   Both sets of eyes narrowed at him.  "Take that back," she growled.

   But Nigma more intelligibly let his feelings known.  "Excuse me?  I have
something in common with her?  This mentally damaged abomination of a
woman? A woman who is half-kleptomaniac, half-crazy catlady!  I'm surprised
she's not flirting with the animals."

   She grit her teeth.  "I'm sorry I left you out, Eddie.  It won't happen
again."

   "The smartest man in the world with the sexiest woman on the planet,"
Harry noted.  "Quite the vanity affair, don't you think?  I imagine you two
could live happily ever after with those delusions."

   "Or kill each other," Harley noted, her jaw set.  "But if you ever crack
a joke about our relationship again, I will tenderize and grind you into
cat food, /bitch/."

   Pamela had been watching her lover closely since Selina's off-handed
comment, seeing how she would respond.  On the plus side, it looked very
much like she had learned her lesson when it came to infidelity, and she
wouldn't be repeating that mistake anytime soon.

   On the negative, this was very poor teambuilding.

   "I...  I'm sorry, Harls," the Cat Burglar said awkwardly, seeing the
hurt in the blonde's clear blue eyes.  "I didn't mean anything by it.  I
was just...  just - "

   "Reminding me that it didn't take much for me to spread my legs and
cheat on my girl?  Or are you just so surprised that the chick who
seemingly just can't say no is rejecting you?" She stabbed the fork she was
holding into the table, making everyone jump.  After a chilling silence,
she spoke quietly.  "Maybe you're just that terrible of a person." She
nodded her head over to Ivy.  "And while I'm sure my lover has been looking
at me like she's afraid I'm ready to fuck everyone at this table, there's
no worry when I'm around you.  I guaran-fucking-tee it."

   Selina looked to be legitimately remorseful and hurt stuttering over her
words in apologies, and Pamela shut her up.  "Harley.  We need to talk."

   She eyed her green-skinned girlfriend.  "I'm not mad at you, Red.  I'd
be worried too, if I brought home a guy I met for - what?  Two minutes?"

   "I followed you home," Harry delicately reminded her.  "After I tied you
up.  I don't see you as the guilty one in that situation."

   She gave the appearance of calming herself, though not by much, as she
looked down, fiddling with her thumbs.  "We had sex, right here in this
kitchen, after I told you to get out of our house and tried to kill you."

   Harry sat back in his chair.  He looked down for a moment, contemplating
whether or not to tell her, before he looked up.  "Do you remember what I
said about Legilimency?  The ability to read minds?"

   "Yeah." She winced.  "You actually can do that, can't you?"

   "Just surface thoughts.  The things you're immediately thinking about.
I've used it on you three times.  I did it once to find out who you were,
the night we met.  I did it again to make sure you were...  I did it to
make sure you were in the right state of mind about what you...  /we/ were
doing next.  You were...  logical about it.  All those thoughts in your
head were just questions and answers.  I saw a pros and cons list.  Just a
whole bunch of scenarios in why this is a bad idea, and why it wasn't so
bad." Harry smiled a little.  "You could see that I was a good kid.  You
called me a kid a lot."

   Her eyes were lowered, staring hard into the table.  "You looked like a
kid.  I've got a persona to play up, I'm supposed to be over twenty!" She
winced as she said that out loud, knowing that she slept with the 'kid'. 
"And then I started feeling guilty about that, too."

   "I'm fifteen, just like you.  According to my birth certificate."

   "...Oh.  Really?  Well, now I know," she grumbled to herself.  "You'd
think I'd ask for that information, wouldn't I?"

   Harry fiddled with his thumbs, and Harley cleared her throat to bring
noise to the uncomfortably drawn out silence, staring hard into her empty
plate.  "And the third time?"

   "Harley.  Look up."

   It took a moment for her to notice.  She eyed the frozen room in front
of her with a half-gaze, seeing her lover with an admonishing stare, the
guilty-looking thief and the angry intellect as still as the table she was
staring at.

   Only Harry, at the end of the table, was tangibly there, focused on her,
staring so intently that he might have been frozen as well.

   Until he blinked.  "Are you panicking?" he asked with caution.

   She bit her lip.  She looked around once more.  Finally, she settled for
shaking her head in the negative.

   "Do you trust me?"

   She nodded, her reaction much quicker this time.

   "It's an altered Stasis charm," he explained.  "No one can hear this. 
Full disclosure - the first time I stumbled on this spell, I accidentally
stopped my subjects from breathing for a short time.  I've since fixed
that." He eyed her closely.  "I told you that because you trust me, and I
don't want to hide anything."

   He ran a hand through his hair and gave a shy smile - something that she
hadn't really seen on him, and honestly wished she could see more of.  "You
saw someone you could trust if Pamela had really decided to let you go. 
You actually considered looking for me to understand where I came from."

   The corners of Harleen's lips quirked upwards.  "But you were already
there." She faltered.  "And I was afraid."

   Harry tilted his head.  "I believe the words were 'Why can't you just
die?' Not the first time I've heard that." His expression turned serious.
"A bit of an extreme response to liking a kiss.  But that's the fear, I
imagine."

   She blushed.  "It was a good kiss.  Not good enough to leave Ivy.  I
needed to gain her trust back.  I talked myself into killing you.  I needed
her back.  I don't...  I needed my Ivy back."

   Harry nodded in understanding.  "She's everything to you." He looked
down.  "Sometimes - when it's just the two of us - I've called her My Only.
For a while, she didn't like being called 'Mione, so I started calling her
Mine, then My Only.  Obviously, the name's not true, but she had that name
before our relationship grew to other girls.  But really, I gave her that
name for a true and honest reason, I wasn't even thinking of the literal
term anymore.  If anything ever happened to her, I don't know what I'd do.
Especially if I think it's my fault.  More especially if /she/ thinks it's
my fault." He paused.  "/You/ didn't kiss /me/.  I can't try to convince
you what is and what is not your fault.  But I take full responsibility for
forcing myself on you.  Because I read your thoughts and I took action."

   "Then I wanted it." Her expression was almost sorrowful.  "My fault."

   "No.  I saw someone in pain who needed to forget.  Someone whose life
just fell from beneath them.  Someone who was thinking about how they would
do /anything/ to take the pain away." He sucked in a breath through his
teeth, and loudly exhaled, the noise amplifying in the silent room.  "My
fault."

   Harleen's eyes were shining, looking at the still figure of Pamela.  Her
lecturing speeches, like the one she was likely going to give, didn't have
a looming or encroaching, tedious feel at that moment.  "Please don't tell
her I thought that."

   Harry's eyes glossed over, focusing on nothing in particular.  "You
know, we like to imagine that we don't know what we'd do if we lost the
ones we love.  We do." He breathed a heavy sigh.  "We just don't even like
to think about it.  She'd think the same thing.  Trust me."

   "Somehow," she leaned forward on the table, slumping against her palms,
"I doubt that.  She's so much stronger than me."

   Harry tapped his fingers on the table, waiting expectantly.  Harley
stared back.  "What?"

   He smiled sadly.  "The third time I read your thoughts was yesterday
morning.  You were telling me about your first few weeks living with
Pamela, and how you didn't get along well until you two began to talk.  I
was rather curious about how you two met."

   Her eyes went wide.  She tried to search her words.  "T-that was - I
mean, she...  that's different!"

   "No.  It wasn't."

   A warm set of green fingers cupped the bespectacled blonde's chin, and
Harleen's eyes were mystified as a halo of red hair surrounded her.

   Poison Ivy kneeled on the table, looking directly down at Harley as she
held her soft skin, captivating her lover.  "Harleen.  My dear, sweet
Harley." She used her other hand to stroke her girlfriend's chin, and the
blonde subconsciously leaned into her fingertips her eyes still looked,
waiting - wanting.  "The days after I met you, I thought I would never be
the same again.  You exposed and revealed the /human/ part of me.  And when
you left that message for me...  I could breathe again.  We've been
together for over a year, Harls.  And I was thinking those dark thoughts
when I knew nothing about you but your body."

   She was silent for a pregnant moment.  Harley had all the time in the
world to wait.  "That month you lived here, when we were purely physical
with each other.  I never told you this, but I never minded that time." She
began to look guilty.  "I didn't love you.  I didn't know if I was capable
of that anymore.  All I knew was that I loved your body.  I loved your
energy.  I loved your brain.  For a time, I even loved your accent, I was
so /hooked/ to you." Harley broke into a grin, for the first time since
Harry enacted the time dilation stasis charm.  "And I would do /anything/
to keep you.  I knew you would fall in love with me.  And you did.  You
told me barely a week into our relationship.  And, a part of me lied.  I
did love you.  But I didn't.  Not yet.  Not at that level.  I was...  I was
so positive I wouldn't get there."

   Her eyes burned with intensity.  "and even /then/, I knew I'd do
anything to keep you, and I'd never consider hope again if you weren't
here, with me."

   Her breath smelled of fresh lavender today, Harleen barely noticed, when
she closed her eyes to stop the tears from falling.  "And now, Red?"

   "Now," the redhead smiled, "I'd do anything too keep you.  And I'd know
exactly what I'd do if anything happened to you." She made a sniffle so
imperceptible, Harley barely registered it.  "From day one, nothing's
changed.  It's just gotten a lot stronger.  You make me feel like I'm not a
monster.  That I can actually /feel/.  And that's why I made that decision
when I first found you.  I saw the potential.  I saw you.  And I was drawn
to you like a fly to a Venus."

   Harley chuckled at the irony of /her/ being referred to as the flower.
"Me too, Red."

   Her full lips curled.  "Then don't beat yourself up.  If there's
anything I love more than you, it's your instinct.  I trust you, Harley.  I
always have.  I'll let you in on a secret." She tilted her head over to
Harry, who sat on the table next to them at a small distance, fiddling with
his thumbs and looking down at his lap.  "When we first met, it wasn't in
the best of circumstances.  But even I could see the care in his eyes when
he took you." Her smile was mischievous as Harry turned to them in
surprise. "I almost began to immediately trust him, too.  And a part of me
was worried what that would entail.  Relationships like this" - she looked
back and forth to her two lovers - "don't last.  Or at least, they don't
end well.  And when someone tells you they already have a harem, even at
his age, you can't help but think he's either a liar or a sleaze."

   Harry only shrugged.  "I never claimed to not be a sleaze, but I usually
only lie for two reasons: to protect the people I love, and to piss off the
people I hate." He looked around the frozen room.  "So when I disable the
ward, and we all pretend this didn't happen, I'm protecting our bigger
secrets."

   The two nodded.  "Good idea," Harley agreed with a blush.  "Because I
was planning on saying a lot more than what I was going to say." She looked
up to Ivy, who had leaned back in a kneeling position.  "How much did you
hear, sweetie?"

   "All of it," the redhead admitted.  "I wasn't affected by the stasis
charm at all.  But by the time you noticed the rest of the room, I was
playing along." She shook her head.  "and apparently, the cradle robber
strikes again.  That at least explains the teenage stamina."

   The green-eyed wizard rested his feet on the chair as he adjusted his
rear on the table.  "Magic stamina, actually.  The power of the wizard
defines the health of the body.  My connection to Hermione's magic gives me
another edge as well, but, it's a bit like a candle burning on both ends. I
did leave her with the rest of the girls after all, doing whatever they can
to distract her from worrying." He didn't have the heart to tell her that
it will only get worse - well, better, depending on the standpoint - as he
got older.

   "You know," Harley began to inquire, "we never got an answer on how many
girls you've actually been with."

   "I've never counted," Harry said honestly.  "I mean, I can remember all
of their names, but I've never organized it into a numbered list.  Give me
a minute."

   Harley whistled.  "That many, huh?  A guy with perfect memory and total
recall has to actually count them out?  That pretty much answers my
question."

   "Although," Pamela pointed out, "that was far too noble an answer for a
normal human being.  I can understand not having a black book, but to not
even have an estimate of your conquests?"

   Harry snorted.  "I imagine that they consider /me/ the conquest.  I have
to try to separate my memories from Hermione's and Luna's.  We tend to
share a lot of memories.  And they're polyjuiced as me, which makes it even
more confusing.  I guess that counts."

   Harley nodded in understanding, while Ivy looked confused.  "I'll tell
you later," the blonde promised, remembering that she wasn't with them the
previous morning.  "So, what was happening before everything froze?"

   "It was right before Pamela told you that she needed to talk to you. 
Since she wasn't affected, she was able to speak."

   Ivy tilted her head at the wording of Harry's statement, but didn't
inquire further.  With a long kiss against her girlfriend's sweet lips, and
a quick peck to her magical boyfriend, she slid back and off the table, as
gracefully and quietly as she approached it.  Harry carefully directed her
back to where she was.

   Harley dabbed at the tears in her eyes, tears that weren't there before
time stopped, and embarrassingly muttered thanks to her two best friends.
She absently reached down to pet the downy soft fur of her Sumatran, and
Juliet was still warm to the touch as she remembered it.

   Harry stood from the table, and the blue eyed girl with shoulder-length
blonde hair used her other hand to make a come hither motion.  Harry leaned
in, and her smirk was devious as she grabbed him by his collar and pressed
her lips to his.

   "You lied," she whispered knowingly, her smirk still in place after they
parted.

   "Did I?  At what part?"

   "Right before that whole lecture on trust, you said that no one can hear
us talk.  I'm far from mad, but I am curious.  Why lie about Ivy being
unfrozen?"

   Harry stared up at the green-skinned teen, her similarly tinted eyes
searching his own.  "Pamela needed to hear it all.  It would hurt the both
of you if she didn't know."

   Harley blinked a few times at the unsaid message, while Ivy looked
ponderous.  Harry didn't dwell on it long, instead moving back to his seat.
He placed one hand on the table, and hid his other hand on his lap, out of
view.

   "Is it too late to slap Selina in the face?"

   "I really don't think she meant anything by that comment, Harls."

   "I know.  I just really want to slap her, is all."

   "You two are going to have to learn to work with each other if we want
this team to actually succeed.  I could kick her out, but doing that might
make her an ally of Batman.  You know she likes to switch sides."

   "Don't I know it." The blue-eyed girl stared at the yellow-eyed vixen,
her statuesque apologetic form, admittedly, a work of art.  "You said the
one thing you loved as much as me was my instinct, right?"

   A slight pause, and Pamela slumped her shoulders.  "Okay.  I get it,
loud and clear.  She'll be gone by the end of the day."

   "Nah."

   Ivy raised a delicate eyebrow.  "No?"

   Harley eyed her girlfriend carefully.  "Don't think I haven't noticed
that no matter how many times she's asked to room with us, you're
interested in the offer, while she's always making eyes at me.  Every time
she flirts with me, you tell her once not to, and she keeps going, and you
ignore it.  You even suggested that she join our team before Harry came
along.  You talked me into stealing the Jade from the museum - the heist
that led me to Harry." She smirked.  "And here I thought you weren't too
fond of cats."

   Ivy stood there with crossed arms, and the beginnings of rosy cheeks. 
"I wanted you two to get along together," she insisted.  "You said it
yourself, Harley: Until Harry, I was your only friend.  And we did - still
do, on some basis - need her help in our team." She looked away.  "And
perhaps, maybe I got carried away."

   "Yeah, you trying to hook me up with Selina frustrated me a bit, but not
nearly enough as the fact that you were doing it for the purpose of all
three of us living happily ever after, knowing that if she managed to get
in my good graces, it would be a very easy transition from there." She sent
a cheesy smile Harry's way.  "I couldn't imagine anyone doing that, huh?"

   "Holy hell," Pamela managed to mutter through a slacked jaw.  "That's
what you did with me and Harry?"

   "Harry was my Selina," her sweet little Harleen admitted apologetically.
"Except what I did /worked/.  In my defense, Harry's more immediately
likeable."

   Pamela, forced to taste her own medicine, didn't know whether to feel
guilty, or just...  betrayed.  By herself.  "I really tried shoving her
into our relationship, wasn't I?"

   Harleen shook her head.  "Selina's hot.  And she's sometimes fun to be
around.  And she gives good tips on how to rob a joint when you don't feel
like running and smashing things." She pointed her thumb at the statuesque
beauty.  "This chick is sex in a catsuit.  But she licks her wrist when she
thinks we're not lookin'.  The psychiatrist in me sees a giant red flag,
and while part of me is curious if she feeds her kittens milk the
old-fashioned way in private, another just does not want to go down that
path with her." She was silent for a moment.  "But I owe you one.  So you
keep her."

   Pamela raised her eyebrow.  "Excuse me?"

   Harley nodded towards Harry.  "You gave him a chance.  And I'm grateful.
But I can't promise I won't abuse your gratefulness.  So I'll let you get
me back." She remembered a few choice words she had mentioned days back,
and smirked devilishly.  "As long as you promise to feed her and water her,
and take good care of her.  That's what I said I'd do for Harry.  This is
more fitting, don't ya think?"

   At Harry's stern look, she giggled.  "Oh yeah, you didn't hear me when I
said that.  The roles have reversed.  I got no problem admitting that. 
Love ya."

   The wizard unsuccessfully hid a smile.  "Back at you, Harls."

   Pamela tilted her head.  "This is weird.  Really, fucking, weird."

   Harley's cheery disposition never faltered.  "Well, you know I love you
enough to start being nicer to Selina.  I don't mind her, I really don't.
Psychologically, she's a gold mine.  A hell of a school project when
summer's over.  But she's a playful, cute little kitty cat.  We just have
to house train her."

   Harry chose not to let known his feelings on the matter, and Ivy
noticed. "Harry," she eyed him, willing to let him know that he was
officially part of this conversation, and everything that went with it.

   He chose his words carefully.  "This is far from the first time I've had
to be in this conversation." He gave a slight smile.  "Frankly, Hermione
and I are a bit more liberal when it comes to us, because of our
condition."

   She shifted uncomfortably.  "This is going to get a whole lot deeper,
isn't it?"

   Harley hummed to herself.  "The more, the merrier.  Enslaving the world
is a tall order.  Keeping a few level-headed, straight-laced gals for
ourselves sounds a lot more obtainable."

   "Girls?"

   "Can you think of a man that you like?  Or can even measure up to the
one we already got?" she smirked.

   Ivy wryly shook her head.  "I was asking because I felt relieved.  So
Eddie's not a candidate, right?"

   "Eww, /no/.  He's old.  And sometimes an asshole."

   The redhead's smile made Harley shiver.  "Oh, you are just perfect."

   "I try.  And sometimes, I just am." She looked around the room once
more. "You know, we could have some fun while they're frozen."

   "With Eddie in the room?" Ivy made a face.  "He can't see me, but I can
see him.  Maybe another time."

   Harry cleared his throat, hiding his embarrassment of what Harley said
earlier about 'measuring up'.  "Time is still passing.  I didn't freeze the
world, just this house.  It's been fifteen minutes."

   "Oh," Ivy muttered, looking at her mug.  "How was I posing?  Do I need
to make this steam again?"

   "I've found that a temporary Confundus charm helps in situations like
these.  The human mind can be eerily observant when it comes to
inconsistencies.  A small amount of confusion will take over for a little
bit.  Since I've told you both about it, it won't hit you as hard."

   "How does that work?" Harley asked, curious about the magical people's
perception on the mind.

   "Your brain knows that it will be confused, and what it's being confused
about.  The logic returns that much sooner when it can remember what's
going on." Harry smirked.  "According to that book I read a long time ago."

   Harley frowned.  She just knew it had something to do with the book she
had considered a waste of time.  "Ha-ha.  Time to go back to the real
world."

   With his imperceptible smirk still present, Harry tapped against the
table.

   As the world around them slowly began to move again, Harry couldn't help
but say one final thing, knowing he was speaking too fast for the ones
affected by the ward to hear, but while both girls were affected partially
by the Confundus charm.  "I suppose we'll have to talk about Harley's crush
on Vicki later, then."

   Harleen Quinzel and Pamela Isley had only a few moments to try to absorb
that information, and Harley could claim that she blushed faster than the
speed of time.

   " - didn't mean to," Selina continued, clearly distressed.  She blinked
a couple of times, and shook her head.  "I didn't think you were so uptight
about - "

   "Stop!" Harley commanded, and looked pointedly at the black-haired
beauty.  "You absolutely suck at apologizing.  "Say you're sorry."

   She could see Selina arguing with herself before finally buckling. 
"Sorry," she muttered.

   "Like you mean it."

   "Sorry," she deadpanned.  "Jesus.  Try some warm milk and calm down."

   In some part of Harleen's mind, she decided that she didn't mind the
puns anymore.  "If I give you a ball of yarn, will you stop insulting
everyone in the house?"

   She crossed her arms and huffed.  "Maybe," she admitted, looking to the
side.

   Edward winced.  "It's literally hurting my head watching this."

   "You," Harley pointed at Selina while looking at the man in the Bowler
hat, "Apologize.  Or Juliet will have words with you.  You two need to get
along, or we end this /right now/." She nodded towards the fork, still
embedded in the table in front of her.  "Picture that table as your leg. 
With bigger prongs."

   Edward Nigma, the genius that he was, apologized for his hurtful words.
"But let the record show that he started it," he ended, eying the wizard at
the end of the table.

   Harry was still petting the vine at his side, while his bare feet
stroked the long back of a sleeping Twilight below him.  "The fact that you
reacted so violently to being mentioned in the same sentence as your
/partner/ is a problem."

   He clicked his tongue in response, but didn't argue.

   "There." Harleen leaned back in her chair.  "We gonna have a problem,
people?  What we're gonna do today will be what makes or breaks us as a
team, and I don't have a lot of confidence in us right now.  We may not get
along now, but we better be /best fucking friends/ on the field.  I trust
Ivy.  I trust Harry.  Hell," she looked pointed at her boyfriend, "I even
trust Vale to do her job right when it's her time." She looked back at
Selina.  "I trust you to do your job, and I trust Eddie to do his.  You've
proven yourselves already.  What I can't trust is the idea that we can all
do our job /together/."

   "We will, Harley." Pamela's tone was commanding, and deep.  "We
/better/." She eyed the three newest members, including Vicki, who had
stood at the door when she heard her name.  "If you're not an ally, you're
an enemy.  If you're a /bad/ ally, you're something worse."

   Both girls looked towards Harry.  And some part of him still felt
honored that he was considered an equal partner on the team, considering he
had joined only twenty-four hours before.  "It goes without saying that
it's too late to turn back.  Far too many secrets are in play, and I think
we've all got a few things that should stay hidden.  We don't need each
other to terrorize Gotham.  We need each other to take over Gotham and
/stay/ there.  And we need more than what we have right now to take over
the world.  So choose any future partners carefully." He paused.  "I have a
friend looking into her resources, collecting everything she can about the
Batman, but I needed more.  The night I introduced myself, I stumbled
across the vigilante.  You know how much of a threat he is, but more
importantly, /I/ know how much of a threat he is.  I now know everything
about him.  I know what he knows.  And I've processed most of it.  On that
point, I should tell you he's getting more brilliant than ever.  Don't
think that my knowledge of him makes him predictable; far from it.  He
knows what I did, and you'll be seeing a different side of him.  A more
lethal side.  He knows what type of enemy he's dealing with, and he's not
taking any chances.  He won't kill, but we're challenging more than him -
we're challenging his control.  I can protect you, and I can take him on
when he interferes, but I'm telling you now: provoke him, and I won't be
enough to stop him from getting to you.  And considering we're breaking
into Blackgate, I wouldn't exactly be looking forward to where he could be
taking you to lock you up."

   He stood from the table, careful of the resting Leopard below him, and
waved his hand.

   Harley gasped as her hair flipped up right in front of her, and she
could feel her hair tie into knots at her side.  She looked down, and sure
enough, her signature red and green getup was there, fingerless gloves and
boots and all, and as she shifted back in surprise, she felt how
comfortable the fabric was, and took note of the different look of her
outfit, the shiny spandex replaced with a more breathable fabric.  When the
fabric began to shine again, she breathed a sigh of relief and looked up to
her girlfriend.

   Having seen herself turn into another /race/ the previous day, Ivy was
more familiar with the rapid transformation, but she was still unaccustomed
to the change.  As fast as her robe slipped from her body, leaves wrapped
and sewn themselves around her twice as quickly.  As soon as her robe
splashed against the floor, her Elvin slipper-clad feet gracefully stepped
over the garment, her body taking in the cool sensations of the leaves that
covered her.  While her last costume was mostly environmentally friendly
fabrics with leaves, this seemed to be completely produced from nature, and
when she stretched, she had to admit that they were stronger than she could
have expected.  She pulled at a leaf, and couldn't see a hint of stitching.
She concentrated, and the leaf turned brown, confirming that it was real.
As soon as she let go, the leaf turned a brilliant glimmering green,
blending into her suit.

   Selina could only watch in a shocked awe as her clothes morphed into
something completely unexpected.  Rather than the leather her suit was made
of, a soft blend of fabrics took over her voluptuous form, creating a pure
black bodysuit, complete with the comfortable heels she was accustomed to,
only completely connected to the rest of the suit.  They even felt the
same. Though her eyes were open the entire time, a quick check found that
she indeed had a mask on, as thin as the skin it covered.  A tentative
touch not only confirmed that she had ears, but, with trepidation and a bit
of excitement, found that they could twitch under contact.  And she could
feel them twitch.  She could feel her normal ears, but the sides of her
mask were completely smooth, no bumps where there should be ears.

   Harley turned to Harry, who was now clad in his own black and green
uniform.  "That was...  pretty cool."

   Harry smirked, even as thin metallic coils began to cover his wrists. 
"Just pretty cool."

   "It keeps you from getting cocky."

   "It's not working."

   Her smirk rivaled his.  "Good.  Cuz dude, you're fucking awesome."

   "Hold on," Ivy muttered with a frown, twisting and turning in her new
outfit.  After a few seconds of silence, she turned to them both with a
smirk.  "It's perfect."

   Selina opened her mouth, and after breathing out a tiring sigh, silently
closed it.

   Harley rolled her eyes.  "You know what?  I think it would be fitting in
this situation.  Go for it."

   They could all see the sparkle in her golden eyes as she rubbed a hand
across the black fabric.  "It's /puurrr/-fect.  Thank you."

   Harley blinked.  "You gotta admit, girl knows how to roll a tongue."

   Selina sniffed.  "Tease."

   "Maybe," she admitted.  "But I'm not the one showing off my oral skills.
Certainly got Pammy staring."

   The Cat Burglar's eyes were predatory as they landed on the redhead, who
was glaring at Harley.  "Oh really?"

   The green-skinned teen sniffed.  "Let's get back on track."

   Edward looked around the room.  "Can someone tell me why I'm still the
same?"

   Harry answered, "You're not going to let anyone see your face.  I didn't
see the point."

   Nigma pouted.  Harry sighed, and with no hint of a flourish, a green
suit was lain on the table in front of him.  Red question marks scattered
about the green silk glowed inconsistently with each other, giving it a
neon feel, and the shoes lain on top of it were made of, if he was correct
(and he reminded himself that he always was), alligator skin.  Even the
Bowler hat that rested on his softly glowing necktie - red silk with green
question marks - was impeccably stitched, with a firm crown, made for
tipping down over his forehead to conceal his face at public
establishments, and the soft red feather that was placed in the ribbon was
bent into a swirl.  If one were to look closer, they'd see the slight shape
of a question mark, but the feather wasn't big enough to be distracting.

   Edward inspected the suit with an appraising eye.  "Impressive!  Flashy,
with just the right amount of subtlety!  But," he turned to him, missing
the girls' looks of incredulity at his last statement, "is there a reason I
got different treatment?"

   "I have to picture you nude to dress you," Harry deadpanned.  "Sorry,
but I'll always be treating you differently."

   He grinned toothily.  "Say no more!  I'll be off to don my new garments.
I shall return in a trice!"

   The group watched him run off through the hallway, his robe billowing,
clutching his clothes to himself like a happy child carrying his books to
school.  "I think he likes it," Harley tittered, before tilting her head to
Harry.  "So, you saw Selina naked?  When was that?"

   "I /pictured/ her naked," Harry quickly clarified.  "There's a
difference."

   "I knew it," she muttered, running her fingers up and down her generous
breasts.  "The bust is a bit too tight."

   Harry blinked.  "I, uh, didn't know they were that...  wow.  That's
impressive; your dexterity, I mean."

   She shrugged.  "You get used to 'em.  So, are these bullet-proof?"

   Harry nodded.  "Even if they aim for your head.  Bullet-proof,
Water-proof, heat-proof, fire-proof, cold-resistant.  I'm afraid that you'd
have to be magical for me to try to add anything else."

   Harley's red eyes gleamed with a passion.  "Oh, I think we can work with
this."

   Ivy wriggled her hands and ran her fingers - noting the three connected
leaves that now adorned her palm, the stem leading directly into a vein in
her wrist - through her luscious hair.  She frowned as she reached a snag.

   "A lily, it looks like," Harley informed her, and Ivy carefully removed
the flower to stare at it.  "Oh, wow," the blonde muttered, watching
another lily immediately, gracefully bloom in its place.

   "A stargazer lily," she whispered, and she took a whiff at the reddish
white petals with closed eyes, savoring the sweet smell.

   Harry smiled, seeing her react so positively.  "I made the suit to repel
insects.  So no worry about bees."

   Her smile was soft, and her green eyes sparkled when she opened them. 
"Why did it take such a long time to fall for you?"

   Harley laughed out loud, while Vicki, still standing in the doorway,
looked out of place.  "Um...  Warlock?  Is there anything I could do?  Any
notes I could take for when I go on air?"

   "Harry," he informed her.  "Call me Harry.  For the moment, we've got
the video side of broadcasting in Gotham.  Now it's time for radio.  I'll
get Riddler to calibrate two of the eight towers back to radio, and once
you get a mic, I'm going to need a full broadcast of coverage at Blackgate.
I'll try to reroute the footage from the security room to one of the
towers." He looked confused for a moment.  "I guess I already know where
that is.  It seems that his memories are starting to get clearer to me
now."

   "Speaking of Batman," Selina inquired, hopping up to sit on the counter,
"Don't you think you should tell the newest recruits a little secret?"

   "Too much of a distraction," the wizard cautioned, "and you're already
underestimating him.  Could you picture Riddler taking Batman seriously if
he found out who he is?"

   Vicki blinked owlishly.  "You know who he is?"

   Harry nodded.

   "My shortlist was always Dent, Wayne, Gordon, Luthor and Sionis.  Was I
close?"

   He shrugged.  "You'll have another few hours yet to ponder it, Miss
Vale."

   "Vicki."

   Harley had since walked towards Ivy, Juliet following, and her
girlfriend offered her the flower.  "I don't think it exactly fits this
character," she murmured, fitting the lily into the green side of her hair,
"but fuck it; I love it."

   Pamela was silent for a moment, staring into her radiant girlfriend's
eyes.  "Do you think everything will go back to normal after he goes back?"

   Harleen's gloved hands found Ivy's and traced the three leaves on her
palm.  She stared sincerely into her best girl's eyes.  "I don't think it
can, Red."

   "I..." she sighed.  "I hope not."

   "That it doesn't go back to normal, or that he doesn't leave?"

   The corners of her mouth twitched upwards.  "Both."

   "Where is he going?" Selina whispered, having approached them quietly.

   Harley almost jumped.  "How did you hear that?"

   Selina shrugged.  "You two sounded loud enough.  I could hear it plain
as day.  Actually, I can hear Vale talking to Warlock and Eddie right now."

   Harley looked over to the doorway to the den, and sure enough, Harry and
Vicki were speaking in hushed tones with the newly dressed Riddler,
probably discussing the technology involved and what was needed to get
through security.

   She didn't know, she could barely hear a word they were saying.

   "/Ow/!  Hey!" Selina flinched away from the redhead of equal height,
whom had just poked her right ear.  On top of her head.

   "You could feel that?"

   "I wouldn't have said 'Ouch' if I couldn't have felt that!" she
stressed, her ears twitching in- and outwards.

   "It feels like polyester," Ivy muttered, "but it's actually...  cat
ears?"

   "And the transformation is complete," Harley rolled her eyes, "and he's
supporting your habit."

   Selina crossed her arms.  "I'm not the only one with an extreme change.
You look like a clown, sweetie."

   "Huh?" she asked eloquently.

   "Your face is caked in white powder and blush," Ivy clarified for her
girlfriend.  "You didn't feel it?"

   "Uh, no.  How does it look?"

   Ivy tapped her chin.  "Like a porcelain doll, actually.  Delicate.  But
the black rings around your eyes makes it look a bit...."

   "Vigilante-ish?  Creepy?  Don't fuck with-able?" the ebony-haired thief
recommended.

   Pamela nodded.  "Sure.  You look great."

   "Good.  I guess we're kinda like vigilantes, ain't we?  Fighting for
what we believe in, and bypassing the justice system to achieve our goal?"

   Selina sniffed.  "Yeah, but we know that most of the things we're doing
is wrong.  Justice-wise /and/ morally."

   Ivy held onto Harley's hand, stopping her from tracing the leaves on her
palm.  "Then we'll have to change the rules when all is said and done." She
frowned.  "You are aware that you've been tracing actual poison ivy leaves,
right?"

   "Uh-huh," she nodded, "and I just know there's a joke somewhere in that.
I'm just trying to decide between 'stroking' Poison Ivy or 'softly
caressing' Poison Ivy.  Or maybe I'll go with 'gently fingering Poison Ivy
until she couldn't take it anymore.'"

   Like an electric shock, an embarrassed Pamela let her girlfriend's hand
go, who continued tracing her palm.  The green/redhead smirked.  "But she
didn't stop me."

   "I'll never live this down, will I?" she muttered, helplessly watching
as her lover violated her hand, in Harley's twisted view.

   She held onto her arm and hugged it to her.  "Nope.  You fell right into
it, Red."

   Selina chuckled at the interaction, and cocked her head at an
approaching Harry.  You're lucky," she simply noted, her face sincere.

   "I know; more importantly, they know." Soon, he was followed by Eddie
and Vicki, and the entire team was there, in a circle.  "Any last
requests?"

   Harley shrugged, while Pamela pursed her lips.  "Don't die."

   Harry nodded solemnly.  "Only if you don't."

   "When we get back," Vicki spoke out, "is there any chance I could get a
wardrobe?" She felt a bit out of place, being the only one still clad in
pajamas.

   Harry raised an eyebrow.

   "I'll pass along my measurements," she said wryly, remembering what he
said earlier.

   "Taking the fun out of it," he teased, and she smiled.  Turning to
Selina he muttered, "what about you?  Did you need me to fix your, err,
suit?"

   She wriggled a bit in her costume.  "You know, I think this works for
me. Constrictive, yet free for me to do more."

   "You just like the push-up feature," Ivy teased.

   "At least someone pays attention around here," she teased back.

   Edward scoffed at the interaction in the room.  "I'm eternally grateful
that my work and other proclivities distract me from such trivial pursuits
as relationships."

   "I'm sure most people say that," Harley responded.  "In smaller words.
And they usually say it right before they meet the love of their life."

   The Riddler only harrumphed and straightened his tie.  Just in case she
was right.

   After connecting hands, Harry traversed them to a place where, maybe
unsurprisingly, he felt he had been before.

   Except this time, he had no intention of arresting anyone.

   -----------------------

   *Omake by Rihaan*

   "Fleur?" he muttered sleepily.  "It's good to see you."

   "It is spectacular to see you, Harry," the blonde smiled brightly,
despite her sweaty, flushed form, "as I feared I would not see you again."

   "You could have called me anytime."

   "/Oui/, I could have, but it would have distracted me from my exams. 
And I feared that I would be under too much stress if I saw you while I
researched the veil."

   "Any progress?" Harry wondered, now fully awake.  He had been on a bit
of a tear the previous night, a bit more...  energetic than usual.  Ivy and
Harley were completely out of it, and he stood by the doorway, careful not
to disturb their slumber.

   "/Non/, sorry Harry.  We have come across a problem."

   Harry furrowed his brow, before a resigned sigh released itself.  "What
now?"

   She spun the mirror, and Harry blinked a few times at the erotically
disturbing image.

   In what looked like the fully renovated version of Salazar Slytherin's
Chamber of Secrets, naked bodies were strewn about the large room; the
floor, the rugs, the beds, and even the tables weren't safe from the
coverage of an endless string of arms and tangled limbs, all connected to
fully developed curves of slumbering girls.

   There was even a girl sleeping peacefully on top of the swaying
chandelier, twenty feet off the ground, and Harry only needed to see a
flash of blonde to know who it was.  "Fleur, could you please get Luna from
down there?"

   The mirror moved slightly, and Harry guessed it was a shrug.  "I tried.
She does not want to come down, so I threw her a pillow." She turned the
mirror back to herself, and Harry noticed how very naked she was.  "I woke
up first, and this was what I saw.  Hermione, she...  she was like nothing
we've ever seen.  She saw through our plan to distract her the moment we
tried it."

   "Wait," Harry furrowed his brow, "Tonks said they were going to distract
Hermione yesterday.  You can't possibly be telling me that..." he faltered
as Fleur's expression stayed grim.  "So she got away?"

   "Sincerest apologies, Harry, but she err, /épuisé/, er, exhausted,
everyone.  My Veela blood assured that I would wake up first.  Parkinson
should be awake soon, with her condition.  Harry...  if you had a
pensieve..."

   Harry nodded, running his hands through his hair.  "I knew I felt a bit
antsy yesterday.  I guess I know why.  Do you know where she went?"

   She sniffed.  "I could guess.  I'm sorry, Harry."

   His mind frantically searched for a clue that there was another
presence.

   All he got back was a simple message - a picture of a strange apple. 
Half black and half white.  He didn't know what it represented, but he knew
what it meant.

   "She's still alive," Harry exclaimed, and both breathed a sigh of
relief. "So she either got away for a while, or she found a way to get
through the veil," Harry tried to rationalize.

   "It has to be the veil.  Snape was guarding it, and he refused to tell
me anything." She bit her lip.  "You ordered him to follow all of our
commands.  Someone made him break that order.  Only you and Hermione can do
that."

   "She ordered him to not tell anyone.  If she didn't want him to say
anything, she would have told him to hide." Harry tilted his head.  "Unless
he's not allowed to tell you /how/ she went through."

   "The Hallows," she exclaimed, and there was a groan out of screen. 
"Parkinson is awake."

   "If Hermione wanted to find me, she'd be here.  She could be somewhere
else."

   "But /où/?  Where is she?"

   "She only sent me a picture of a black and white apple.  It has to mean
something."

   Fleur shrugged helplessly.  "Would it be another world of fiction?"

   "Has to be.  She wouldn't have sent a message so simple otherwise."
Harry frowned.  "She doesn't want to be found right now.  She's planning
something.  And shy of Voldemort and Dumbledore, I feel sorry for anyone in
her way."

   The French half-Veela smiled wryly.  "It seems she has been slaughtering
everyone in her path for the past twenty hours; from ze break of dawn to
dusk and back again."

   Harry frowned and rechecked the image that Hermione had sent him.

   The apple had craters.  It wasn't meant to be an apple.  It was in the
perfect shape of an apple, however.

   But it was meant to be a moon.  One side white, the other side black.

   Harry sighed.  He had a prison to rob in the morning, but it appeared
that he wasn't going to get much sleep, knowing that his girlfriend might
be facing off with the supernatural.  "I know where she is."

   -----------------------

   ~/Ch.  9, pg.  195 quote/~

   /About three things I was absolutely positive.  First, Edward was a
vampire.  Second, there was a part of him - and I didn't know how potent
that part might be - that thirsted for my blood.  And third, I was
unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him./

   "That logic seems very flawed," Hermione muttered, and Isabella Swan
jumped up in surprise to see a woman in a simple pale green hoodie and
black skinny jeans, looking over her shoulder as she wrote in her diary. 
"Sorry, didn't mean to shock you.  I'm Hermione.  Hermione Granger."

   She backed away as the girl clutched at her chest, her breathing
erratic. With an unnoticeable calming charm, her heart settled, and her
breathing became relaxed.  "W-where did you come from?"

   Hermione pointed her thumb back towards the window.  "You should really
close your windows at night.  You may be on the second floor, but your
gutter spout is very durable." She brushed her hair away from her face as
she gently sat on the edge of the bed, mere feet away from her.  "I'm
sorry, but I was, er, running away from home, and you were the only house I
saw for miles.  The other house was a boy's and, that would have been
uncomfortable, to say the least." She smiled nervously.  "Sorry for the
inconvenience."

   "No, no.  It's alright." She looked intrigued.  "You really just got up
and ran away?  With no bags?"

   "Well, I didn't really have a choice.  See, my boyfriend's gone missing,
and I have to find him.  I'd like to think that he depends on me, but I
can't say /that/ without saying I can't do a bloody thing without him.  A
lot of people are after him, and I didn't have time to think about anything
else.  Like clothes." She bit her lip.  "You seem to be one to believe in
fairytale type creatures, right?  Would it surprise you to know that
there's more out there?"

   Even as Bella began to deny that she knew what the brunette was talking
about, the pale girl felt her voice dying as Hermione gently placed a
finger over her lips, and with the other, a soft glow emitted from her palm
to form a small apple, hovering between her fingertips.  "Do you believe in
fairy tales, Miss Swan?"

   "I...  how do you know my name?"

   "Same way I know that you have a fetish for the weird, Bella," she
whispered, and her smile was predatory - far more sinister than a
Vampire's. "/Magic./"

   Her breathing was heavy.  "Why are you showing me?"

   "Because I feel drawn to you, and I'm doing what I feel is right." She
bit into the apple, and took a long swipe with her tongue at the exposed
juice left behind.  "I don't think it's sexual, though you're a very
beautiful girl.  You just seem like a good partner to have around." She
wordlessly handed over the apple, and, after only seconds of indecision,
she took it.

   She was tired of relying on people.  The harrowing experience of having
three strangers approach her at night, only to be saved by an always
watching savior, made her both relish and reject the idea of a guardian.

   For all she knew, Edward could be watching her right now.

   "He isn't," Hermione informed her.  "I may sound like a hypocrite,
reading your mind and all, but a girl deserves her privacy.  My magic
allows you to have that."

   "You can...  you can read my mind?" She had speculated Edward could do
the same thing, but it's doubtful he'd ever tell her the full truth. 
"Could you...  not?  Please?"

   "Oh, I'm sorry!  It's just that...  your mind is so vulnerable to me,
and I don't see that so often.  An open book, and I love books.  It's
interesting."

   Her eyes shifted away.  "Not that interesting."

   "I've read a lot of books, and a lot of minds.  Yours is downright
fascinating, Bella.  So...  inventive.  Imaginative.  Beautiful." She
looked down.  "So much more than I expected.  I wish you could see that."

   Bella bit her lip, pondering the situation behind and ahead of her, her
mind racing.  Being saved in the middle of the night by an impossibly
beautiful man, and to come home to an even more incredibly attractive
creature, certainly made her feel like she was special.

   And that's all she ever really wanted: to feel special.  Not to lust
after some sense of danger, and not to surround herself with potential
cannibals.  She just wanted to be...  accepted.

   /I made my decision./

   /The once-bitten apple was sweet, almost too sweet, I realized as I
covered her bite with my own, rather large bite.  Edward and I didn't have
a large dinner, as he gave me half-truths and even lesser-fractioned
explanations.  This girl - Hermione - I had only met her for minutes, and
she tells me everything I needed to know.  Or, at least she seems ready
to./

   /There were several people in my life I knew were hiding secrets from
me: Angie, Jessica, Mike, Eric, Jacob, Tyler (who apparently didn't let me
in on the secret that he's my prom date), my own father, and of course, the
man with the most secrets, the *Vampire*, Edward Cullen./

   /I've been so desperate for the past few days to find the answers to the
things that happen around me, I forgot the feeling of overwhelming joy when
the answers are right in front of me./

   /That logic seems to make sense.  Then again, I claimed to be in love
with a man I met for a combined - eight hours?  One hour outside of class?
I like a good mystery novel, sometimes I could love them, but once the
mystery's over, it loses its magic.  No pun intended./

   /This girl claimed that I was an open book, but she seemed to have no
secrets she wanted to keep from me.  She even pulled a few out of me
herself./

   /So how did I find myself so incredibly attracted to her?  How did I
find myself, with a mouthful of as-of yet un-chewed apple, kissing and
holding the only girl in Forks to have any answers for me, and I find
myself not caring if I scare her away, if only for a lingering, fleeting
moment of *this*?/

   /Fortunately, that turned out not to be the case, for when we parted, me
staring into her brown eyes, her smile almost eclipsed mine, even as she
chewed on a piece of apple that wasn't there before./

   /I didn't apologize, nevertheless.  I *couldn't* apologize.  Even if I
could, I didn't want to./

   /Love is a fickle thing, I'll be the first to say that.  And perhaps the
words 'irrevocably' and 'unconditionally' were a bit over the top./

   /But I swear I love this girl by my mortal heart./

   /It didn't start then.  That would be, compared to the past few months,
somewhat ridiculous.  But throughout the night, we talked.  We did nothing
but talk for a good long while, and I didn't regret it at the time.  She
was a truly fascinating woman, and explained so much to me about what's out
there.  My weirdness for attracting the weird wasn't an isolated incident,
it seems.  But I also attracted her, to be fair.  An inquiry for another
time./

   /She understood that I wanted answers, and she revealed to me what seems
to be a far-fetched tale, even compared to the rest.  Her beauty was only
rivaled by her mind, which was just as voluptuous and attractive to me,
despite my ambivalence towards school.  She explained what she knew about
me - things that no one else but I knew - before she told me about the
existence of other worlds./

   /But even that couldn't compare to the wondrous tale of my life being
catalogued in a popular book series where she comes from./

   /She was a fountain of knowledge, and I had no reason to not believe her
so far, but there was one thing I needed to know - one thing I needed to
hear her say, lest my emotions go unchecked.  "Why?"/

   /Her head tilted in the slightest way, and her beautiful eyes sparkled
so genuinely.  "Because your story is everything short of a tragedy," she
slowly admitted to me.  "I didn't mean to come here, but I quickly deduced
where I was, and it would be inhumane of me to not warn you of hard
times."/

   /I tilted her chin, yet again, and sealed my lips on hers.  I suppose it
was my way of thanking her.  No.  That's not true.  It'd be far simpler if
it was, but that's not apropos with my life, according to her. 
'Complications' would have made a far better title than 'Twilight.'/

   /What I said next, couldn't be explained as me trying to thank her.  It
can't be blamed on me trying to find closure, or at least more answers. 
I've never been one to take a leap of faith, but right now, with this girl,
I'd dive head-first, at least until she found what she was looking for. 
"Your boyfriend," I asked her, almost surprised that she had never once
mentioned his name.  "Who is he?"/

   /Her eyes sparkled, and I felt an odd feeling of dread overcome me. 
It's utterly reckless to write this down, but I would have never been the
same again if she said 'Cullen'.  I don't imagine my story would go on much
longer if I started skipping Biology./

   /Luckily, she told me an unassuming name, a name that was comfortable to
me.  A name with no meaning or consequence./

   /Harry Potter./

   /But I knew it had to be a special name to be attached to this girl. 
I'm more grateful for this mystery; it promised much more in terms of
simplicity./

   /As dawn broke over the horizon in the east, my head was lain against
her shoulder as we travelled the terrains in a lavish, smoother vehicle
that shared some resemblance to my former deathtrap monster truck.  We
passed the city limits, something I was once confident my car could never
do, and her teasing smile at being made right made me shiver, and it was
all I could do not to distract her from driving./

   /I've said since the beginning that I've wanted to leave Forks,
Washington, and the people I've met have only slightly spoiled my
exuberance to leave - the letters I've decided to write and leave next to
my diary will express my thanks enough, I think.  The rain will still be
there when I come back.  Someday./

   /My story can wait; this one seems far more intriguing./



   -------------------------------------------------

   Chapter 12: Blackgate

   Roman Sionis, known to a select few as The Black Mask, was absolutely
pissed.

   Contrary to popular belief, he was almost never angry.  It wasn't like
anyone could tell, what with the wooden façade.  Thorns in his side, like
Batman, were always roadblocks, but he usually kept on with a relatively
positive attitude, or at least had a near-constant source of relief in the
form of his girlfriends, or physical relief in his many henchmen.  But most
times, while he was generally known as aggressive, or even ruthless in the
way he conducted his work, he was merely doing the cost of business.  And
for that reason, business was good.  Until now.

   Fourteen hours.  That's how long it's been so far.

   /"Who in the hell is the Warlock?"/ The last remaining television in the
warehouse could ask, /not /riddled with bullets./ "What does he want?  And
what will he - "/

   'Bang.'

   /" - and the young women beside him," /she continued, unimpressed, /"be
willing to do to get it?  This is Vicki Vale with GCTV News Channel Seven.
I hope I've enlightened you and informed you.  If you haven't gotten the
message yet, then I will sufficiently give you that time.  For the next
twenty-four hours, this broadcast will be played in its entirety.  I urge
all of the viewers at home to really consider what is at stake here."/

   "Oh, don't I /fucking/ know it," he muttered in a raspy voice.

   Vale was a dead woman, he decided twelve hours ago, and every hour since
was only a reconfirmation of facts; Vale was a dead woman.

   Of course, that didn't mean Riddler wouldn't also feel his wrath.  He
certainly hadn't forgotten the only man who could have given Vale that much
access to /his/ towers to be able to broadcast at all.  Poindexter was
going to die as well.

   And the voice in the banisters, the voice he knew to be the Warlock, was
also on Sionis's list.  Perhaps he should go after him first.  Cut off the
head, as the old adage says.

   The first hour of being tied up and abandoned in the warehouse consisted
of this new kid garnering the crime boss's respect.  Never had he seen such
an impact on Gotham in the first few days than whatever the hell this
mystery guy did.  Frankly, it was all a bit too /sanitary /for his tastes,
but Warlock was clear on his way to accomplishing his goals - according to
the constant loop he was enduring from the television, those goals seemed
to be the domination of Gotham, or at least the city's fear and respect.

   Roman could admire that.  It was foolhardy, but he could admire it.  He
could even appreciate the method in which he did it; taking his towers,
stealing his business associate, and even - somehow - getting Vicki
/fucking/ Vale to work for him.  If it was some kind of mind control, logic
dictated Warlock would have tried to do it to /him/, would he not?  The
Black Mask /owned/ Gotham.  Actual mystical powers or not, if he wanted
control, Roman would be his first and final obstacle.

   Maybe he knew he wasn't ready?  That happened on occasion.  Some rogue
henchman or a thug, or some hotshot from out of town tries to make a name
for themselves.  They always go after the shark, not even bothering to
mingle with the small fish and make their way up.

   And over the years, The Black Mask had formed a reputation off of what
happens when you fuck with the Megalodon.

   Warlock, however, seemed to have an idea of how to do things.  He made a
smart decision teaming up with Femme Fatale, which even he acknowledged as
girls he wanted nothing to do with, and kept his distance, despite the
temptation.  Fantasizing about what to do with them if he won a war against
them, and actually inciting one were two completely different things.  He
was a businessman, first and foremost, and picking his battles was why he
remained on top.  Intentionally antagonizing the Bat, for instance, was
something he would never do.  He'd never send out an invitation to try and
stop his dastardly plots, or some bullshit like that.

   And here Warlock was, sending out a message, a direct challenge to the
entire GPD, and by proxy, the Batman.  Paying the police off would have
been simpler, but apparently the kid found a more cost effective way.

   It was by the sixth hour of him tied in ropes, some kind of unbreakable
Bat-Twine, that his respect for the new guy faded, and made a mental note
to just kill the kid.

   Ten hours in, and Commissioner Loeb was added to the list.  He had no
idea what was happening on the outside, but no reason would make up for him
waiting on the cops to pick him up.

   He recognized what could come of this - the leeway he would lose from
having the commissioner of the police force in his back pocket.  He knew
that it would be a heavy, and stupid, blow to his power.

   But this was just /embarrassing/, and no amount of torture he'd inflict
would be as humiliating.  He'd still torture Loeb, of course.

   He might've been able to stream his torture to the rest of Gotham as a
warning.  If he had his fucking towers back.

   "I don't get it," one of his cronies murmured, and with their masks
still on, it was difficult to tell who was talking.  "They always pick us
up after Batman beats us up.  One time, I waited two hours, and even then,
they even apologized for the inconvenience!"

   "Yeah," another one agreed.  "Warlock must've gotten 'em distracted."

   There was a slight pause.  "Or no one knows we're here."

   "Bullshit," one of them claimed.  "Course they know!  They always know!
When's the last time they /haven't/ picked us up?  If ya ask me, I think
Batman works with the pigs.  For all their high and mighty speeches against
the Bat, they haven't caught him yet!  What if it's one of those superhero
plan B type initiatives?  Some kind of prototype super suit that the cops
wear to take us out, and they're testing it."

   "Nah," someone argued, "I doubt it.  It's more likely a rogue cop that
don't like the justice system, and hates paperwork even more.  Or at least
makes the paperwork more interesting.  'A Bat tackled the suspect to the
ground and left 'im dangling by his feet.'"

   "At least his neck was saved."

   "From what?  He was arrested."

   "That's not what I was...  okay, guys.  Don't laugh.  I'm working on a
theory, here."

   "Oh, here we go..."

   "No, no, just hear me out guys!  I'm serious this time!  This one's got
some weight to it!"

   "Did your mommy tell you that, or was she talkin' 'bout me?"

   "Real mature, Frankie.  You wanna hear it or not?"

   "Fine, let's hear it.  It can't be worse than his theory on it being a
zombie Thomas Wayne."

   "I'm not giving up on that theory.  But this one's pretty good, I
promise."

   "Yeah, yeah.  Just tell us already!"

   "...I think Batman is an actual vampire."

   "..."

   "I'm serious, guys, just think about it!  He's got vampire strength, the
senses, quickness, he can fuckin' /fly/!  When's the last time you've seen
him out during the day?  It makes sense!"

   "...Yeah, but...  Charlie, he's wearing a costume.  A vampire don't need
no costume.  /And/, it's a bat costume.  Ain't that a bit too...  on the
nose?"

   "Exactly!  It's the last thing everyone would suspect, right?  What
/vampire/ dresses as a goddamn /bat/!  It's perfect!"

   "...But he doesn't bite people."

   "That we know of.  Can you tell me the last time we saw Jerome?  Or
Kevin?  What about Gene?  A lot of us have been disappearing lately.  What
if that's because they're dumped in the ocean, nothin' but flesh and bones,
and two holes in their neck?"

   "You're insane, man."

   "...I don't know.  I think you might have a point.  Could explain why he
disappears into thin air sometimes.  It's making some really good sense. 
Compared to a Wayne being the Bat, I mean.  Now /that/ was a stupid theory.
Have you seen their money?  Dude could pay for a hit on every criminal in
Gotham, if he gave a damn."

   "Wait; You believe the Vampire story over the Zombie story?"

   "We've been here for fourteen fuckin' hours, man - I'm loopy enough to
believe a lot of things."

   "You know, I'm not gonna argue."

   "You're all idiots."

   Perhaps his mind would change once he got out, had a good nap, and
re-evaluated what was really important in life, but for the time being, he
really liked the idea of putting a bullet in everyone's head.  At this
point, who could blame him?  Who could stop him?

   /"I'm more than unstoppable." /Static.  /"I'm the Warlock."/

   Oh, right.  First, Warlock dies.  Priorities.

   "Am I interrupting something here?"

   Through half-lidded eyes, even under his wooden mask, he was able to see
a simple man in sunglasses walking out of the elevator, looking around with
what he could only assume were curious eyes.

   "Sherman?" he blearily blinked at the well-dressed man, and shook his
head wildly.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

   "I'm here to clean out," he calmly explained, certainly used to scenes
like this in his field of work.  "My crew will be here in moments. 
Apparently, the, er, /obstruction/ in the intersection of the Jezebel will
take longer than expected to clear up, so heavy traffic abound.  We're
almost at gridlock."

   "So how did you get here?"

   "Helicopter - I parked next to yours.  Even though my best customer
doesn't need hideaways anymore, it's a thriving business." He looked
pointedly at his former best customer.  "No little thanks in part to our
bat problem.  I'm assuming...."

   He let out a low growl.  "You know what happens when you assume."

   "It seems he has already made an ass of you, Jeremiah," he taunted,
using his alias - his other, made up professional alias.  Still, knowing
Roman was back on Batman's radar, he felt that his assistance would lead to
a profitable future later, so he went to untie the bonds at his legs. 
"Unless Nigma did this."

   Even in his state, he let out a weak laugh.  "Not alone.  He must've
felt real secure when he pulled that on me.  He didn't even have the sack
to tell me why."

   "Then, you would have shot him in the face."

   He stared at 'The Broker' with intense eyes - the only part of his face
Sherman could see.  "He stole my towers and set up a trap for me for
Batman. A bullet in his head's too kind for the bastard, now."

   "Am I to predict that the Warlock is also in your sights?"

   Roman didn't reply, even as he stood and rubbed at his wrists, slowly
walking towards one of the televisions.

   "-/But hey, since we're here, and since you've got everyone's attention,
why not sprout out a name before someone else tries to shoot you in the
face.  Let's give the people a name for the grave, y'know?"/

   /"They can try - "/

   *SMASH!*

   "Broker," he began, staring at his fist embedded into the flat screen
monitor, "for old times' sakes, your services are required.  I have a list
to go through, and I need a warehouse - this one, preferably."

   "I have a strict 'no burial' policy, as you may remember.  Bad for
business."

   "Of course." Without any caution for his own gloved hand, he pulled his
fist out of the television.  "But I have no real interest in killing them.
Not anytime soon."

   The Broker let out a heavy sigh.  "I'll line the house with plastic
covering.  For the record, I'm doing this because the new paint is wet. 
For legal reasons, I don't need to know what goes on in this house."

   Behind the mask, held a dark, menacing grin.  "Use red paint.  Easier to
blend in."

   "Noted."

   -----------------------

   The best part of battle, Selina realized, was the setup.

   It was honestly what all of the real work went into.  The best plans
could go to waste in the fight, but there was no reason to fight if the
plans weren't so great in the first place.  It was probably why she put up
with Eddie.

   So she appreciated a good plan, and she wasn't a huge fan of battles. 
Especially gun battles.  Getting shot more than once in twenty-four hours
was not something she set to accomplish, and as much as she appreciated the
new suit, she was not keen on testing out the durability of magic.  If
Harry had any sense of humor, about eight more hits would do her in.

   /'But, /damn/, do I look good in it.'/

   So, for /maybe/ not the first time, she appreciated the existence of one
Harry Potter, as she avoided any and all action sequences in their plan. 
She was on a pure tactical espionage/stealth mission and she was okay with
that.

   She knew she didn't have a good history working with others, but this
kitty knew how to play nice.  She had been championing for this job, after
all.

   And with this morning's unpleasantness out of the way, Selina figured
that she may have to build up some good faith for their future.  She didn't
mind.  She planned on acting out a lot, and figuring out the ratio of acts
of rebellion to acts of usefulness was her forte.  It let Batman turn the
other cheek once in a while when there were bigger fish she could dangle in
front of him.

   '/Hmph.  Bruce.  Go figure./' Though it would explain why he always let
her go, or allowed her to escape.  She expected he enjoyed some modicum of
his cover lifestyle, no matter how no-nonsense he seemed to be with the
mask.  He probably would have added her to his list of models to the high
society functions, given the chance.  Trust issues and other complications
aside, she considered Batman an ally, and maybe even a friend.  She doubted
he wouldn't keep that secret from her for long, or she wouldn't figure it
out herself.

   Well, all of /that/ was out of the window, now.

   With her claws extended - something Harry shouldn't have known she had,
but seemed to work just as properly on her new suit - she dragged her index
carefully into the window pane, stroking at the glass like a seasoned
artist, her cat irises focused intently on every etch.

   She appreciated the sharpness of her new tools, the blade never once
catching on the glass, slicing through the pane like air.  When she leaned
back, she grinned at her work before pulling an item out of one of her
pockets and adding the finishing touches.  She retracted the claws on her
other hand that was affixed into the concrete, and jumped back from the GPD
building, somersaulting and freefalling into the lake behind her.

   As she quickly surfaced and began to slowly float on the water, she
began to lie on her back and crossed her arms behind her head, waiting for
her next command.  She took cool, calming breaths, trying to ignore her
inability to swim.  She loved this new suit.

   Something tickled at her nose, and she opened her eyes.

   There, on the roof, a black-hooded figure sat precariously, legs
dangling from the edge, their black-gloved hands around a pair of
binoculars.

   The figure waved at Selina, and the thief's eyebrows raised.

   '/Well, this complicates things./'

   She carefully removed her hands behind her head and slipped on her
goggles, and in that transition, the black-clad figure was gone.

   To be able to escape from a position like that in a second - feet
dangling, leaning forward - was admittedly impressive.

   It looked like there was a new player on the field.  And she didn't
think the plan accounted for that.

   -----------------------

   "You know, I should put a bullet in you."

   Jonathan Crane looked up from his desk, and was about to retort when
another guard spoke up.  "I don't have a problem with that.  Three of my
friends are stuck in that giant pit in the Bowery.  Now we got ourselves
some bait for Ivy to get rid of it."

   The other guard snorted.  "Not likely.  He's a dude.  Just another
henchman to do her bidding, and tossed to the side.  He's probably so
messed up in the head, he thinks he did all of it.  Ain't that right,
freak?"

   The suspect the two were escorting - wearing civilian clothes, stumbling
along as the guards had his arms hooked and his hands cuffed - remained
silent.  He almost looked unconscious.

   The guards didn't seem to care.  "Let's just put him in Ivy's old cell.
I'd think he would like that."

   "What?  We can't do that.  Sharp says he wants him in a regular cell
with the others."

   "Says the guy that threatened to put a bullet in his head?  Just do it.
We can move him later.  He's not even on record yet."

   Crane's gaze was steady on the newest prisoner.  His long blond hair was
dirty and slicked back, and his skin was pale and sickly.  When he turned
to the doctor, his mouth was pure black, and he could see the veins in his
face pulsing out.

   He recognized the symptoms.  It was a man stuck in mid-poisoning.  Ivy.

   Without complaint, he was led into the glass chamber, its only distinct
label being the sign on the door - 'BIOHAZARDOUS'.  The room was sealed,
the only air provided through some one-way filters in the ceiling and on
the sides, and there was nothing in there but a mounted down desk and a
mounted down bed - same as Crane.

   He stumbled into the room, and the door was quickly shut behind him.  "I
don't know what you did," one of them muttered, "or what she gave you to do
it, but that powder shit you put in that pit might have killed almost forty
policemen today.  The only reason we didn't put you with the rest is
because they think you're a fucking hero to them.  I'm gonna give you the
treatment you deserve."

   The prisoner sat on the bed and turned to them.  "You'd think when so
many lives are in danger," he spoke in a raspy voice, "that whole mess
would be protected a little more.  I literally just walked up to it and
threw the stuff in.  Ivy said it'd be easy." He lifted his cuffed hands and
sniffed his palms, the green residue still there, even after they'd tried
scrubbing it off, a reminder of the green goddess.  "She's always right."

   The guard's fist slammed against the glass.  "When we take you back to
the cells," he threatened, his teeth bared, "We're gonna talk to you.  Each
and every one of us would like a word with you.  Branden says he wants some
alone time, too.  You remember Branden, right?  Almost took your head off
with an axe earlier?"

   "He's still mad at you for that," the other guard warned.  "He spent all
night on one of those limbs, and the powder fixed everything he did.  He's
gonna be pissed when you see him.  Hope he doesn't bring the axe with him
to interrogation."

   He stood back.  "Don't get used to being here.  Your /mistress/ couldn't
take it here, you won't either."

   The sickly blond shrugged.  "She escaped."

   He gave a dark chuckle.  "Yeah, like you're as good as Poison Ivy."

   "No one is."

   "Then you know she's not gonna save you.  You're stuck here - with us."

   To which he merely shook his head, his brilliant blue eyes shining in
defiance.  "No.  she won't save me.  I don't want her to.  I'm here for a
greater cause.  I'm here to spread the word about her.  Let them know of
her greatness, and what she can do."

   They simply scoffed.  "I imagine she can do a lot of things.  I can
think of a few.  It'll probably be easy to convince those guys to work for
her."

   "Which is another reason we're gonna keep you down here."

   "Have a nice nap.  Oh, and, we've since changed the sheets.  No funny
ideas."

   As they were walking away, the young man smiled, his teeth very yellow,
and very sinister.  "Oh, I won't be here too long." He eyed the prison cell
across from him, and the man inside it.  "Mister Crow."

   Crane nodded, and checked to see if the men were gone.  "Mister Lock."

   Harry grinned.  "So you do have a sense of humor.  But how did you know
it was me?"

   "You're still alive," he explained easily, "even after being kissed by
Pamela.  Only one other has ever lived, and she was given that immunity by
the lady herself." He cocked his head.  "But why are you in disguise? 
You'd be arrested in the same way, and sent here.  I must admit, I'm
perplexed."

   "The poisoned face is part of the disguise.  To them, I'm a weak punk
days away from death."

   "And in reality?"

   "We're breaking you out."

   He linked his hands behind his back.  "And you had to be arrested to
liberate me, I imagine?  Find my whereabouts?  Pamela must've remembered
where she was arrested."

   The disheveled blond nodded the affirmative.  "Of course.  Just waiting
for everyone to get into position.  There's going to be quite the
distraction."

   Crane looked even more befuddled.  "So your powers do have limits,
then?"

   "Not that I'm aware of.  We could both easily disappear right now.  But
that would spoil the distraction later, and that's part of our long-term
plans.  And this is, honestly, more fun." He seemed to remember something.
"How have they treated you here?  Overall?"

   Crane shrugged.  "Better than you would think for Maximum Security. 
They're aware that one day, we'll escape.  And /sometimes/...  we'll look
out for our own.  And we hold a grudge.  And nothing brings us together
more than an abusive cop.  The low-lives are fair game, but we can't be
touched.  A little bit of fear helps.  If that answers your question."

   Harry nodded.  "Thank you."

   "Nothing has happened to Pamela.  You have my word."

   He gave another stiff nod.  "She made a good choice with you for a
friend."

   "As did she with you," Jonathan commiserated, leaning against the glass.
"But I shall worn you, I'm not fond of working with others, if this is a
recruitment attempt."

   "No one on our team is," Harry reminded him, laying back on his
temporary bed.  "But that doesn't stop us.  Just give us a moment to prove
how capable we are as a team, and you'll reconsider.  Selina should be
almost ready."

   "You were able to tame the Cat?" He stood there, his stitched together
lips in a frown.  "You have my attention."

   Harry suddenly frowned.  "You know, I expected them to take me to the
cells with the others.  I assume there are cameras here?"

   He nodded.

   "Damn.  Then I won't be able to get to the control room unnoticed.  I
suppose some electrical interference needs to happen..."

   "Or," Jonathan said quickly, "I have a suggestion.  They'll let you out
in a moment, for psych evaluation.  On the record or not, she knows that
someone else has been admitted into the prison.  Doctor Whistler will
arrange for a meeting, and you have to go to a different room for that."

   "Oh, joy," Harry said blandly, but he had to admit that this worked in
his favor.  "Then I suppose we sit tight until they're ready."

   -----------------------

   "I don't think we're ready for this."

   Ivy looked up from her desk, surveying the monitors for the
miscellaneous cameras around Gotham.  It certainly explained the blackmail
material that Riddler always seemed to have.  "What's the problem?"

   "A big one.  There's a new vigilante on the streets."

   She quickly inspected the thief.  "You okay?"

   "He didn't touch me.  He was sitting on the top of the police building,
just looking at me.  He waved."

   Pamela gave a deep frown.  "Well, that's a wrench.  Were you able to
follow the plan?" Selina nodded.  "Good.  They're supposed to see your
little gift, so a warning by whoever you saw is pretty much pointless. 
They might play in our favor.  We have to wait until Harley gets into
position."

   "And then?"

   "And then...  it's show time."

   -----------------------

   Harley slowly drug her mallet through the dirt, whistling a merry tune.
Her mismatched boots were in a graceful stride as she sauntered down the
road.

   The girl with the green and red hair had her eyes firmly set on the
magnificent bronze statue of Cyrus Pinkney.  The architect of Gotham stood
tall and proud, his left arm crossed against his breast, the other at his
side, his circle-framed glasses permanently fixtured upon the edge of his
nose, forever looking over Gotham - forever surveying his masterpiece.

   Well - not /quite/ forever.

   At the base of the statue, Harley took a few test swings with her
mallet, completely ignoring the on-looking crowd surrounding her.

   With one more one-handed flip of her most reliable weapon, she caught it
in her hand and used the momentum to spin into a full circle.

   Usually, when faced with a fully bronzed statue, a wooden mallet with a
good two and a half inches of silver plating around the head wouldn't do
much.  In fact, it's almost detrimental to the attacker, as striking it
directly would only rattle her from the extreme vibrations.  And shatter
her favorite instrument entirely.

   Luckily, she had magic on her side.  An impervious charm and several
attack-based charms later, and she felt confident in her new and improved
weapon.

   So, as she swung full force into the left ankle of the immortalized
vision of Gotham's architect, she wasn't exactly shocked to hear the
equivalent of shattering bone, but she was surprised to see the shattering
of splinters.

   As it turns out, the statue wasn't entirely made of bronze.

   And over a hundred people took witness as the statue of Cyrus Pinkney
began to lean over, only one partially damaged leg supporting him, until
the bronze layer began to crack and whittle away, exposing the wooden
support beneath.

   Ripe for chopping down.  And while she didn't have an axe, she supposed
what she had was close enough.

   The screams were nothing to her as she violently struck down a landmark
of Gotham.  They remembered what Harley and Ivy did before to the statue,
simply spray-painting one side green, and the other side red, as a public
announcement of Harley's first crime one year ago; a practice round for
things to come, and a message to the people of Gotham.  Not a threat, per
se, but more a declaration of...  fun times coming.

   This...  /this/ was no cheap crime.  This was a true and honest threat.
To Gotham.  To the GPD.  To the Batman.  To everyone that stood in her way.

   And as the newly face-painted vixen leaped onto the base and swung with
all her might at the midsection of Pinkney's crumbling body, everyone had
one thought in their minds - get in her way, and you could be that statue.

   Watching a statue fly into the air in the same fashion as SWAT team
leader Howard Brandon, was a very scary sight indeed.  And she held onto
the pose for a few more seconds, as if watching her homerun hit, grinning
all the while.

   Finally, she turned to face her crowd.  She set the hammer down and
leaned against it, crossing her ankles.  With an imperious look, she only
needed to say one word: "Scram."

   The crowd was dispersed more quickly than she imagined.  While she
wasn't a fan of the screaming panic, especially the scared kids, she felt a
sort of perverse pleasure at the fact that she invoked it.

   It was something she knew she could get used to.

   Shaking out her arms and jumping in place, she stood at the elevated
base of the once proud statue, its bronzed shoes being the only evidence of
what once was, and began to kneel, folding her arms against the head of her
mallet.

   And she waited.  She knew it wouldn't take long.

   -----------------------

   With one last forlorn glance, Captain James Gordon threw away the
communication device.  It had been a little over 24 hours, the amount of
time the Batman said it would be activated, and since there was no drop-off
point in the note attached to the device, he assumed it was disposable.

   All of the case files.  All of the information the GPD had acquired, or
at least speculated.  Pretty much everything was placed in his hands.

   Gordon prayed that it was worth it.  And if it wasn't, then everything
could lead back to him.

   Helping and abetting Public Enemy Number One was never a good bullet
point on anyone's resume, and he knew he wouldn't survive in prison.  He
doubted he could make any friends, considering he had arrested over thirty
percent of them.  The remainder had found a mortal enemy in the man he was
working with.

   He almost laughed at the thought that in order to escape, he may have to
become a vigilante himself.

   "Gordon."

   He turned around and faced the man he put in charge the previous night.
"Harvey.  Report."

   "Nothing on the front of the vine pit.  Brandon seemed to make some
headway, bringing fire axes and attempting to chop down the pit."

   "Against my orders?"

   He shrugged.  "Couldn't do anything else.  We tried the fire thing. 
Made the damn thing stronger, thanks for that.  We tried ice, because, you
know, it's a plant.  Liquid nitrogen.  Zilch.  We obviously couldn't use
guns in the thing, but we tried it on the edges.  Didn't do a thing against
the big vines, but we managed to make a hole in a little one.  All the
weed-killing chemicals we brought into it just got absorbed.  So we /had/
to try cutting it.  Chainsaws and Axes, a fucking C-4 explosive on the edge
of that monstrosity!  The small ones were gone, but the big ones...  the
big ones were beginning to shrivel.  We were making headway.  And then...
well, I tried to warn ya when it happened."

   He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  "What happened,
Bullock?"

   He stuffed his hands into his trench coat pockets.  "One of Ivy's
minions showed up.  Had all the looks of a poisoned victim, by her. 
Somehow, he got through all of us, and threw some kind of powder into the
pit.  We lost everything.  From what I can tell, our guys might still be
alive in there, but everything we could do since, won't work anymore.  They
were watching.  They saw what were doing, and sent someone to stop us.  And
it worked.  We're boned."

   Gordon's fist was tightening at every word.  "Where the hell is he?"

   "Blackgate.  He's a dead man walking, poison or not."

   "No.  Put him in solitary.  I need him alive."

   "If you wanna talk, you better hurry.  Get to first base with Ivy,
you're usually dead in minutes.  It's been an hour.  I had the guard alert
me when he kicks it."

   He snatched the gun out of his drawer, and began to load the weapon
while blindly grabbing for his coat.  "Tell them to put him in
interrogation.  I'll be there in ten."

   "One more thing." He tilted his head over to the window at the far side
of the room.  "It's probably a prank, but who do you think could've done
that?"

   Gordon blinked and looked over to as of yet unnoticed window, stopping
mid-load.  "This is the eighth floor.  Who could get to this window?"

   "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

   Jim, despite his logical mind telling him that this should be a low
priority compared to everything else happening today, couldn't shake his
curiosity and looked closer.

   "Son of a bitch," he swore, and reached for the radio on his hip.

   He gave one last look at the carved-in message to the window - a
portrait of a face, one of the most familiar faces in town, with a single
thorn-stemmed rose taped across it.  "Every off-duty officer get to Central
Square!  We have a situation!  Report to the Cyrus Pinkney statue!"

   He hurried his preparations and ran, disregarding the discoloration of
the rose taped to the window.  A red stem, with black petals.

   Bullock gave the appearance of setting up for his own departure for a
few more minutes, until he made sure he was in the clear.  "Ten minutes,"
he said to himself.

   -----------------------

   "Ten minutes," Harley spoke into the receiver.  "That's when the cops
should get here.  Everything ready?"

   "Of course," the redhead responded.  "Vicki's in the - wait."

   "What?  What happened?"

   "Something's wrong with the feed.  It's not responding - we don't have
access to it anymore!"

   "Where's Riddler?"

   "That's a good damn question," she muttered, turning on her monitor on
the side.  "What the - the regular news is back on.  Someone hacked our
hack!"

   "Check the surveillance.  What do you see?"

   "Oh.  Riddler's apparently tied up."

   "We're all in the middle of something.  Can it wait?"

   "Sorry, but not in that way.  He's been captured, and I can't tell by
who, but it isn't Batman.  It looks like what Selina warned me earlier
about."

   "What?"

   "And according to the real news, the Monarch Theater was burned to the
ground late last night."

   "*WHAT?*"

   -----------------------

   "And...  there.  All better."

   "You shouldn't be here," a gruff voice disciplined from the shadows.

   The newest vigilante in town turned from the computers directly to the
source.  "I was tired of waiting for you to do anything about it.  I was
tired for everyone else to get off their asses.  So it's my turn." Quickly,
the computer became a priority again, and the hardened vigilante lost the
new hero's interest.  "Ready to be useful again?  Eddie could use a ride to
Blackgate."

   "Your work is done here."

   "Oh, to the contrary; my work is just beginning.  Don't lecture me on
what's too dangerous for me.  We're both dealing with something beyond our
level.  So much so that you've even started taking...  desperate measures."
The hood flipped back.  "But what you need is someone who works so close to
the system, breaking it is a habit.  The GPD can't get you the information
you need.  And you need more tech support, because frankly, this shouldn't
have been an ongoing problem.  It's been seventeen hours of their
twenty-four hour broadcast.  The message is already through, and they are
winning."

   "No, they're not.  We have the advantage on them now.  Quinn is at the
Central Square, and you captured Riddler."

   "And that's just great.  Warlock doesn't /need/ them, and he can break
them out anytime he wants.  If anything, they could be another
distraction."

   "...  You need a mask."

   "I don't plan on being close enough for them to see my face.  I'll do
reconnaissance.  You can keep the dirty work."

   "If you insist.  Name?"

   The new vigilante's hood was raised once more.  "Black Robin, at your
service." With a few more keystrokes, the flash drive plugged into the
computer network was removed.  "Let's see them try to get through that."
Black Robin looked over to the tied up form of the man in green.  "But it
looks like you'll never get a crack at it, doesn't it?" When the vigilante
looked back over to Batman, he was gone, and only a small round device was
left in his place - a speaker/receiver type device.  "Huh.  I should start
doing that."

   -----------------------

   "I see that you have not revealed your name."

   "Sorry.  I'm not exactly part of the system yet.  The name's Dudley."

   "I see.  And your last name, Mister Dudley?"

   "Vernon."

   The renowned psychologist, Dr.  Gretchen Whistler, made a few notes to
her pad.  "Well, Mister Vernon, I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

   "Can we make this quick, doc?  I've got an appointment with the Grim
Reaper in, like, ten minutes.  Give or take."

   "Yes, I've been briefed on the situation.  And while no one's ideal
position for their last moments is a psych evaluation, it is protocol for
anyone that enters the doors of Blackgate facility to have their mental
faculties examined."

   "A lot of big words, doc," the blond teen pointed out with crossed arms.
"But I got the gist of it.  Everyone else seemed okay with breaking
protocol when it comes to me."

   "Ah yes," Doctor Whistler noted, before she elaborated.  "I hope you
understand the situation.  It is for your own protection."

   "She says to the dead man walking," he scoffed.  "But from what I was
told, it's not for my protection.  It's for theirs.  Who knows what vicious
inspiration I might incite from the prisoners, after allegedly killing
thirty-seven boys in blue?"

   "And you feel no remorse from what you've done?  The pain that you've
made them suffer?"

   "I did say 'allegedly', right lady?  Don't go putting blame on me for
something I had no real part in."

   "They were close to destroying it.  Saving them was only a matter of
time.  You impeded their progress."

   "Several things in there." He held up one of his cuffed fists, and began
ticking off his fingers.  "One - considering I work for Poison Ivy, having
her babies destroyed and calling it 'progress' isn't /exactly/ the best way
to earn my cooperation.  No respect from you people.  Two - not once did I
imply that any single one of them are actually dead.  They could be in
stasis, for all we know.  Innocent 'til proven guilty, correct?  Three - I
do not /need/ to be here, and you know it.  I am /not/ a psychopath.  I'm a
well-balanced teenager, with an imbalanced sense of justice.  From your
point of view, at least.  If you're holding me here, just tell me.  Aren't
you supposed to be building trust with me?  And four." He tilted his head
towards the door.  "Everything I tell you in this room is confidential.  So
who's the cute brunette spying on us?"

   It took quite a few moments for her to respond.  "That...  that is my
assistant.  Doctor Young.  You can come in."

   It took even longer for the youthful brunette to shake her head at the
display of confidence the teen boasted, and pushed in the door.  "Good
morning, Mister Vernon."

   "Do not bother," the doctor spoke crisply, her German accent getting
thicker.  "Whatever his name is, it wasn't what he was born with.  At
times, you can tell that he's reading from a script.  Pre-planned lines. 
What's peculiar is that he looked that way when he told us his own name."

   "Why, doctor," he gasped, "are you implying that I broke our
patient-doctor confidentiality and gave you a false name?  How... 
trendsetting of me."

   "That rule has been terminated; we no longer need to keep secrets,
within reason or otherwise."

   "Huh - a lot's changed since I've read up on it."

   "You can thank one of our prisoners, Victor Zsasz, for abusing the rule
at every opportunity, in every single way."

   "Oh - alright then.  Since we're being honest with each other - you tell
me who we're all waiting for, and I'll tell you my name."

   The veteran doctor quickly weighed her options.  "Captain James Gordon
is on his way to interrogate you about the incident you caused, and to
interrogate you about your boss."

   'Dudley' frowned.  "That's disappointing.  You'd think the Man in Bat
would have wanted a word with me."

   "Oh?  You think yourself that important?"

   "Why, yes.  Yes I do.  You'd think he'd come gliding straight here when
word spreads that you've managed to arrest the Warlock."

   He was met with incredulous faces.  "Oh, come on, now!  You think I'd
still be alive if I didn't have /something/ propping me up?  I have magic."

   "My thoughts exactly."

   He looked over to the doorway.  "Jimmy!  It's been a while.  It's rude
to enter before knocking.  I don't know what kind of rag-tag team of cops
you're running to not obey simple manners."

   "Save it, clown."

   "...Sorry, the reference escapes me.  Are you referring to the horribly
disfigured black mouth, my poisoned discolored veins, and my almost
translucent face due to the lack of blood?  That was in terrible taste,
Jim."

   "Speaking of; where is she?"

   The green one or the crazy one?  Oh, who are we kiddin'?  They're all
crazy!  Women, right?" He shrugged.  "Love 'em to bits, though.  In a world
where an alien falls from another universe with an overactive magical drive
and plenty of free time on his hands ever needed a couple of beautiful
lawbreakers to help him out, I probably couldn't have found better, that's
for sure."

   Gordon slammed his hands on the table.  "Where.  Is.  Ivy.  Freak!"

   He took a few seconds to ponder the answer.  "Well, here's the problem.
So there we were, in the throes of passion, screaming each other's name -
well, I was mumbling her name, because I'm a /manly/ man - and all of a
sudden, my magic is vulnerable for a second, and her poison enters my
system.  I didn't even notice until this morning.  We had a big plot
prepared, too, but I had to sit this out.  This is all I'm good for. 
Mostly because it hurts to walk."

   "It hurts to walk?" Jim asked skeptically.

   "No one's bothered to strip me since I've gotten here, Gordo.  Trust me
when I say that lip contact isn't the only source of her poison.  Her whole
body is a weapon, and I was right stuck in the middle of it all.  So to
speak."

   Only Gordon's years of professionalism kept him from shuddering, or
feeling any sort of sympathy.  "So why get yourself arrested?  Under a
disguise, no less?"

   "Well, you're here, aren't you?  I don't need you destroying our plans."

   He felt his pulse quicken.  "Plans?"

   The Warlock leaned in closer to the Captain; as close as the handcuffs
bolted to the table would allow.  "You're halfway across town, the entire
opposite direction of Central Square.  You do know what a 'distraction' is,
right, bozo?  Nice to meet you."

   -----------------------

   "You know in hindsight," Harley told herself, "maybe this would've been
more fun if Gordon was here.  Now I've just got the peanut gallery to deal
with."

   "Just keep them distracted for twenty more minutes, love," Ivy spoke
through the communicator.  "Gordon should be on his way now."

   "Well, there's nothing left for me to destroy while I'm standing here,"
she said, referring to the now useless base, only useful to hold the plaque
commemorating the architect of Gotham - which now featured an oddly
circular embed in the middle.  "But I'm sure I can find something to hold
my attention."

   "Well, if you do need something to do, Eddie could always use some help.
He should be on his way to Blackgate right now.  Though I've never seen
Batman's aircraft during the day.  He might try a more subtle mode of
transportation."

   "Roger that." She tossed the mallet into the air, and caught it by the
handle.  "When I'm finished up here, I'll extract him with the others."

   "We need him to get back into the satellites."

   "There's another way.  Tell Vicki to start recording.  I'll think of
something."

   -----------------------

   "Hello, faithful viewers.  This is Vicki Vale, reporting live from an
undisclosed area, for my own safety.  If you've turned on the television in
the last seventeen hours, you are no doubt aware of Femme Fatale's
warnings, and the Warlock's debut into Gotham.  And while our playback
video was recently taken down, no doubt announcing this city's answer and
sealing our fate, the team has been very busy as of late.

   "The infamous scene where it all began, at the intersection of the
Jezebel Plaza, has taken hostage thirty-seven officers, courtesy of Poison
Ivy's plants.  Some notable names include Captain Jack Grogan, Lieutenant
Arnold Flass, and Officer Rich DeCarlo, a man recently in the news for
pending charges of police brutality.

   "Unfortunately, this act of retaliation was to be expected, following
the attempted attack that occurred minutes before the ambush, led by one
Jack Grogan.  This will not stop until both sides agree to each other's
demands.  One side can't hope to achieve everything until both sides agree
to listen.

   "Allow me this peace treaty - earlier this morning, a mere hour ago, The
Warlock allowed himself to be arrested.  He has agreed to step into their
territory, handcuffed and poisoned - absolutely powerless.  There, he will
be available to negotiate a deal with the police commissioner, or the
mayor. He is only asking for an agreeable party, to talk over the terms of
his release, and the terms of the plant life that Ivy champions.  According
to him, this will be his final warning to the city of Gotham."

   -----------------------

   "Ignore it!" James yelled frantically into the police radio, after
hearing the message on his own car radio.  "Ignore the broadcast signal! 
They're baiting us!  Everyone continue on your route to Central Square. 
Essen, call ahead to traffic control to clear a path!  He can't do anything
right now - we'll deal with him later."

   "/God help the people of Gotham,"/ Vicki's voice was heard over the
channels, broadcasting into every home with a radio.  /"I for one can only
hope this ends in a way that is agreeable to every party.  If not, then
this reporter recommends some cheap apartments in Metropolis."/

   -----------------------

   Jenkins was struck in the jaw for his foolishness.  He had been planning
to flank the blond mallet-wielder for ten minutes.  Ten grueling,
meticulous minutes.

   Only problem was, she knew he was there the whole time.

   "Stay down," she warned in a sing-song voice, and he had no problem
complying.

   Looking over her shoulder, she managed to duck an oncoming axe. 
"Seriously?!" she yelled, knowing it came from the nearest SWAT team
member.

   With a flesh-eating grin, she spun against another oncoming axe to hide
behind one of their patrol cars.

   Before they could even move to check, they heard a sickening crack, and
a tell-tale thud of a body colliding with the ground.  When they turned
around, all they saw was a heavily armored man, lying on the ground - a
noticeable dent in his helmet.

   "You don't wanna play fair?" a voice echoed - something they were
getting very familiar with.  "Fine.  I'm tired of playing with kiddy gloves
anyway."

   "Come out, Quinn!  There's no escape!"

   There was a high-pitched giggle.  "You obviously got no idea who you're
dealing with!"

   "Try us!" another yelled.

   She didn't.  Rather, she made them wait.  They swore they saw her
drifting in and out of the shadows, and covered each other's backs while
they were forced to hold out, their guns at the ready.

   To a trained officer, it wasn't the fight that should scare you.  No,
it's not knowing who - or what - you were fighting, and especially not
knowing where the fight was going to come from.

   And so far, they've seen things that Harley Quinn should never have
done. Even through the adrenaline, they knew that.

   Who did a cartwheel to escape a machine gun salvo?

   In the distance they heard a squeal of tires.

   "It's been fun, gentlemen." The voice was distant, now.  "But I must go.
My people need me."

   One man chose to walk forward, his hands spread out, one occupied with a
Mamba pistol and the other, a submachine gun.  "Face us, you coward!"
Lacking in decorum, Wilson was known as a hothead.  Usually, he let his gun
do all the talking.  And he did a /lot/ of talking.

   Today, he was going to learn a very important lesson.

   The mallet flew in from nowhere, and Wilson barely had time to
acknowledge its existence and how fast it was going before it brushed past
his ear, and the silver-gleaming weapon flew past the group, and slammed
itself into the adjacent building.

   While the group looked at the damage the hammer did in horror, Wilson
quietly acknowledged that the instrument, had it been a little to the left,
would have gathered his brain matter on the way to the wall.  It still did
not deter him from his mission, so he turned back towards the source.

   Standing in his way was a man who was supposed to be bleeding from his
brain, or at the very least unconscious, but there he was, a heavily
armored officer, the dent still on the top right of his helmet, standing as
if nothing had happened.

   It was only maybe a half of a second of confusion before it clicked into
place, and then the officer attacked.

   And so, the scene Gordon and the remaining officers arrived at was one
of an aftermath of a twisted action movie.  There she was, again leaning
against her choice instrument of destruction, surveying her work, her
dented helmet tucked beneath her arm.  The damage surrounding her was
something that she could appreciate.  It was new to her, and that small bit
of hesitancy she had earlier, was now as much as a myth as the people's
hope that the police of Gotham could protect them.

   She swung her mallet over her shoulder as she heard the slamming of car
doors.  "You guys really don't learn, do ya?"

   James pulled back the hammer of his gun, and began to feel an
overwhelming wave of déjà vu.  "Come with us, Quinn.  We won't hesitate to
shoot."

   She looked around.  "I'm sure one of these bozos said that at one time."
She smiled, her black-painted lips both complimenting the stark-white
makeup and black rings around her eyes, and made her /oh so/ terrifying. 
"They went back on their word.  Besides, we all know you'll hesitate, Boy
Scout."

   He grit his teeth.  "Don't test me, Quinn.  I've had a bad week."

   "You're welcome," she bowed.  "And you've been a bit of a thorn in our
sides.  Really, all of you have.  But while we were sure Batman wouldn't
fall for our plan, you guys didn't disappoint."

   His eyes narrowed.  "What the hell are you talking about?"

   Her watch beeped, and she looked at her wrist.  "Oh, would you look at
that?  I'm glad I got this bloody thing fixed."

   Jim lowered his gun, dumbfounded at what he just heard.  It wasn't the
lack of her New York accent that got to him.  It was the addition of an
entirely different - and familiar - accent.  "No..."

   Harley Quinn's eyes shone with mirth, and faster than they could
process, slung her mallet straight at the Captain.  He only managed to get
off a shot, but it easily deflected off the weapon, not even making a dent,
and he quickly propelled himself out of the way, taking a partner who was
slower on the draw on the way down.

   Even before he looked back towards her direction, he knew she was gone.
And she was, not leaving a trace behind, other than the battered bodies
behind.

   That cinched it for him.  "We played right into their trap." As he
suspected, when he turned back to the mallet, there was nothing behind but
the caved in cop vehicle.  He slammed his fist into the dirt.  "That
/wasn't/ Quinn!  They played us!  They just wanted us to be far away from
the prison!" He looked up at the rest of the officers.  "What are you
waiting for?  /Get back to Blackgate!/"

   -----------------------

   The Warlock found himself back in his cell, Ivy's old cell, across from
Jonathan Crane once again, now sporting a regulation orange jumpsuit.  He
toyed with the invisible watch on his wrist, thankful that they didn't
locate that.  Hearing Vicki's broadcast from a nearby sleeping guard who
left his radio on, he sat up from his temporary bed.  "I don't think
they're good listeners."

   "Perhaps the citizens of Gotham would pay heed to your warnings if you
/texted/ it to them?"

   He chuckled.  "Not enough time.  Got about five 'til the spell wears
off." He looked pointedly at the slacking guard.  "But I need to get the
control room.  I can't just wait until Harry gets here."

   "So you /are/ planning on breaking out, then?"

   The blond looked over to see Penelope Young, leaning against an empty
cell grate.  "You just do not like to ignore conversations, do you?"

   "Answer me."

   "Guilty.  Are you disappointed in me?"

   "No.  More curious." She held her clipboard in her crossed arms.  "You
don't have a drop of poison in your veins at all, do you?"

   "I don't know about that.  I've got a story about a snake to tell you
later.  When we meet again."

   "You plan on coming back here?"

   "Of course.  My psych eval was cut short.  I'm kinda curious about my
results."

   Her eyes flickered from her clipboard, and back to him.  It was subtle,
but he caught it.  It was something he trained himself to study.  "Well,
call me curiouser.  I've got time to spare.  Let's hear it."

   Penny considered the sensitive situation she was put in.  She knew that
if she refused to, that would give him more time to plan his escape.  So
there was no chance of alerting a guard, against a wizard who wasn't
poisoned to begin with.  That just meant more bloodshed.  She'd rather only
one casualty happened today; even if it meant her own.  "Okay." She took a
deep breath.

   "You seem to be normal, at first glance.  Your lies aside, you have a
dark sense of humor.  While that in itself is fairly normal, there was
something strange you mentioned: you kept boasting your partners up, while
putting yourself down, under the pretenses of sarcasm and the like.  You
have confidence issues.  You feel like you contribute the least to the
team, and you make up for it with being the class clown.  You use jokes to
throw people off, and your wits to turn the tables around.  However, beyond
that, you overcompensate your abilities to impress others.  You believe
your rite of passage is to serve as the distraction."

   He shrugged.  "Maybe more or less."

   "This would match up perfectly to a man that was once a powerful
warlock, who had recently just lost his powers - these doubts of
self-worth. However, we're not dealing with that, are we?"

   "Pretty, bright, and observant.  I like you." He pondered the situation
for a few moments.  "Let me give you a quick outer-body experience.  You're
absolutely right.  I'm not the most gifted member on my team.  I mean, I've
got my own skill set - perks that'll make an international spy bow his head
in shame - but I'm no superhuman.  Just yesterday, I was trying to do
magic, of course to no avail.  I even had a little bit of a crisis this
morning." He sighed and laid back in the bed.  "Until yesterday, I was the
smartest in the room.  Before that, I was trying to work on my stealth. 
Sneaking missions go a long way.  And then the mistress of sneaking joined
our little team.  So, all in all, I've got problems.  For a long time, I've
been searching to find something all my own.  It's why I made the choice to
be what I am today - in this damn place, no less!  But I'm not bitching
about it.  I just needed to hear it from a professional.  Though it gives
me solace to know one thing."

   "Oh?" Dr.  Young took a step back from the chamber - just in case.  "And
that is?"

   "I /knew/ that you were going to say all of that.  I knew you were going
to jump to that conclusion.  And while I didn't want you to hear that I
wasn't poisoned and powerless, I knew that if I kept that secret, that
everything would have made perfect sense.  'Cause, you see, what you're
doing right now; that's what I've always wanted to do.  And to see that I
could look at myself objectively like that, and be able to nail every
bullet point from a trained professional, from a prison that only takes the
best - well, suffice it to say, you've made me the happiest little girl in
the world."

   Penny blinked, not sure if she heard that right.  "Excuse me?"

   "You know, they say that looking at yourself with a non-judgmental eye
is the most difficult thing in the world to do.  So a self-diagnosis is
never recommended.  That's what makes me proud, doc.  And if this entire
plan couldn't work to a T, then maybe my ego would have been a little bit
damaged.  But you just gave me another reason to like you, doc.  Because I
don't need powers to do what I do best.  And what I do best is..."

   There was a beeping sound, and before he could say another word, his
body began to transform.  His legs and arms began to grow shorter, and his
hair longer.  He hunched over, gritting his teeth, the hands gripping his
elbows beginning to thin.  But what really caught Penny's attention was his
face.  The rings around his eyes began to expand and darken, and his pale,
pale face began to grow even paler.  His blackened veins began to recede,
and his sickly, crusted lips took on a slick sheen.  Shining, smirking lips
- a smirk Gotham was very familiar with, and had every right to fear.

   When the change was complete, a new person was in the cell, and while
there were many changes - many, very noticeable and obvious changes - the
sinister grin was all Penelope could see.  "What I do best," she continued,
her bright blue eyes unchanged, "is know how to be me.  The name's Harley.
See you soon." She reached down into her regulation orange slacks, and
pulled out a small ball.  Throwing it to the ground, she waved at the
doctor, before a cloud of opaque smoke filled the glass prison.

   Penny shrieked, and ran forward to the sleeping guard.  She shook him
frantically, not losing sight of the smoky chamber, until the guard
collapsed off the chair.

   She screamed, and in the massive confusion and bewilderment, she didn't
see the white-faced jester creek open the door.

   Within moments, she collapsed next to the guard, joining him in sweet
oblivion.

   "I thought you liked her," Jonathan commented for the first time,
thoroughly entertained by the entire exchange.  "Why kill her?"

   "They're not dead," she said very casually, approaching his cell. 
"They're sleeping.  With any luck, she'll be my co-worker in a few years. I
could use a friend here.  Seeing as I'm breaking out half the prison." She
shrugged her shoulders.  "Coast is clear; you can come out your cell, now.
I still need to get to the control room."

   "Let us proceed," he nodded, opening the door effortlessly and the two
headed on, Crane leading the way.  "The evidence locker should be nearby.
My suit should be there."

   "Meet me in the control room in ten.  That's when everyone should be
ready for extraction."

   "The real Warlock?"

   "Yup.  I may have seemed a little frustrated when I was 'opening up' to
the doctor, but I really do appreciate him.  Him and Ivy...  they're the
best thing that's ever happened to me."

   She said it with as much sincerity as her speech before, he silently
noted.  "You seem very conflicted about your place."

   She rolled up her now too-long sleeves as she walked along.  "Oh, I know
my place.  Right with those two.  And I don't regret a second of it." She
paused.  "Well, maybe the time I almost turned his head to paste.  I could
probably take that back."

   "A story I'm sure you'll regale me with when we reunite?"

   "Sure, Crow.  It's a deal."

   "Er, If you be excusing me, miss."

   Harley stopped, and eyed the giant man in his cell as Crane went on. 
"Uh, yeah?"

   "You be happening to be Miss Harley, Would ya?"

   She leaned against the opposite wall in the hallway, crossing her arms.
"Maybe."

   He went to his mattress and slid out a folded piece of paper.  "Ya see,
miss, I was tasked with the burden of findin' ya, I was, but I was
arrested. Gun shipment gone bad, ya see?  But, um..." He unfolded the
paper. "You have been cordiality invited to an all-expenses paid cruise
aboard the Meredith, and VIP with Mister Oswald Cobblepot, Captain.  Bring
ya friends.  P.S.  - I promise I won't ask ya ta work for me and/or
entatain tha fellas.  Ya have my word this time."

   "Greedy little bastard finally learned his lesson, eh?" Harley kicked
off the wall.  "Fine.  My team and I will discuss it.  When we release you,
you can go and tell Penguin that the message was delivered, and we'll be
over there within five days, whether we accept or not."

   "Ya plan to break us out?  Thank ya, miss!"

   "No problem, big guy!" And she skipped along to the control room,
unknowingly making a friend, and building her reputation among the peons in
the underground.

   -----------------------

   Ivy leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.  "You are completely
and utterly in the clear," she whispered into the headset, grinning.  "No
extra security in the prison.  Just the bare bones.  Do me proud, baby."

   Vicki, who was now at her side, eyed the security camera of the outside
of the prison.  "How long do you think it will take to get there?"

   "Normally, thirty minutes," she explained.  "While the presence of my
babies caused a gridlock, it's not a main street.  So detours are plenty.
Unfortunately, there have been roadblocks set up on the road to allow the
cops to get to the Central Square, once it was reported that all police
needed to get there."

   "Let me guess - the roadblocks have been removed."

   "Of course.  The main threat was supposed to be in the Square, right? 
And the people need to get through, now that the cops are where they needed
to be." She pointed to the streets on a few of the screens on the left -
and the many cars that filled /all/ the lanes, including the emergency
shoulder lanes.  "Blackgate is ours for the taking.  But it's not over
yet."

   -----------------------

   "Why do I feel that today isn't over yet?" Harley asked her magical
boyfriend once their lips parted.

   "Because it isn't," he admitted.  "Right now, we're waiting for Eddie.
We couldn't give you a communicator, so we've got a lot to fill you in on."

   "Oh, joy," she droned for the second time that day.  "Eh, bright side, I
can finally get out of these hideous garbs."

   "That you can," he agreed, and her orange jumpsuit was quickly replaced
with her usual suit - the wonders of magic.  "Now - time to see how much of
his memories I can sift through to make sense of all of this." He observed
the blinking lights and the black and white monitors in the control room.

   "Actually," Harley reasoned, "I think I can help." She was aware that he
hadn't dealt with much technology in his world, and at least she knew the
universal symbol of the 'eject' button.  "I'll get the security tapes.  You
try getting to the manual override."

   "/Flip the red switch."/

   Harry paused and pressed his earpiece further into his ear.  "Selina? 
You've done this before?"

   "/No.  But it's /always/ the red switch."/

   "/And if there's a few rows of black switches next to it," /Vicky
reasoned next to her, /"then it doesn't hurt to flip those, either."/

   Harry blinked in surprise.  "It's there."

   "Good," Harley sighed in relief, her hands full of small black tapes. 
"Spell in place?"

   "Curse," he gently corrected her.  "And yes.  We're good to go."

   "You're gonna have to explain the difference to me eventually."

   "And you're gonna have to explain how the hell you can handle that
mallet.  It weighs at least a Vernon!"

   "Skills, dude.  The less you think about it, the more it makes sense."

   "That seems to be the overarching rule of Gotham City," a voice sounded
from the doorway.  As he spoke, he was fitting his hand into the stitched
together glove, the intimidating syringes still in place over each of his
fingers, though empty.  "Could you believe that they kept my things in a
display case?  I suppose they expected me to stay a legend - a mere myth,
never to return." He eyed the black and green-clad boy with curiosity.  "A
pleasure to meet the real Warlock.  I'm guessing."

   "We're ourselves," Harry assured him.  "And a pleasure to meet you,
Doctor Crane."

   "Please," he held up a hand, and the eyeholes cut into his mask, once a
pitch-black, began to glow blood red.  "Call me Scarecrow."

   "Well forgive my reluctance for handshaking," Harry said jokingly,
looking pointedly at the syringes, "but...  welcome to the team."

   -----------------------

   Chaos.

   Pure, unadulterated, chaos.

   Blackgate was on /fire/.

   "And that is why you need help," a voice said quietly into the Dark
Knight's ear.  "You can't deny it now."

   His silence spoke volumes.  But what he said next spoke even more.  "I
know.  Help is coming."

   "Hopefully, you called in the one who can take on a God.  Because that's
what you're dealing with."

   "No.  His powers are limited.  You have to fight fire with fire."

   "So who did you get?"

   "An old friend."

   But of course, the Dark Knight was never one to wait.  The crowd of
escaping criminals, freely running out of the front of the notorious
prison, grew and grew.

   As did his patience.  Shaking his head wearily, very aware of the fact
that he had not slept in nearly two days - something that, while he was
fairly used to, knew Alfred would /not/ fail to remind him - he spread out
his arms and began to lean forward, falling into the fray.

   It was time to remind Gotham - and himself - who /really/ introduced the
concept of /fear/.

   -----------------------

   "And here, I was hoping to relax on the 'coming home' run of my tour,"
Zatanna muttered dejectedly, seeing a billow of smoke from her hotel room
window.

   "You really expected that?" her apprentice asked, with an unmistakably
droll tone.

   She sighed again, but this time, there was a wisp of a smile.  "I
suppose not, Rachel.  It /is/ Gotham, after all." She looked back at the
purple-clad teen.  "So tell me - what have you learned so far?"

   "That you like to play games." Her voice began to take on an ethereal
tone.  "And parlor tricks are a decent way to pass time and make money."
Her eyes began to glow an eerie red.  "But the mediocrity is over, and you
like to test your strength just as much as I do.  And I've never had much
of a chance to be a hero."

   Zatanna lifted the top hat off her head, revealing a fluffy ball of
white.  "You may want to sit this one out, Bud." The bunny made the leap
from her head to the bed, and began to nap on the pillow.  "So I guess we
don't have a choice, do we Rachel?"

   For the briefest of seconds, the grey-skinned girl allowed herself a
smirk.  "Do I have the look of a 'Rachel', right now?" Where there were
once two glowing eyes, were now four, and they were all staring at her with
a burning intensity.

   The magician opened the window and leaned against the sill.  "Fine,
then. Raven.  Ready to go hunting?"

   When she raised her purple hood, the girl only had three words to say.

   -----------------------

   Omake (noun): Extra, or an add-on.

   Used in a sentence - This is an *Omake by Rihaan:*

   "So, where is our next stop?"

   Hermione frowned.  "I don't know, actually." She glanced over at Bella,
who raised an eyebrow with a curious look.  "Well, I wasn't exactly
thinking this through when I started this whole journey.  I just looked at
the facts, and forced myself to make a decision.  I think I'm doing all
this for a reason, I just need to figure out what it is."

   "You mean...  kidnapping me?" There was a smile when she said it, and a
tilt of a laugh.

   "Oh, hush you.  You chose to come with me."

   "And as long as we don't run out of gas, I suppose I won't regret it."

   The brunette scoffed.  "We ran out of gas hours ago, Bella.  We've been
running on magic since we left the hotel."

   The pale girl blinked a few times.  "Well, that explains the car being
so quiet."

   Hermione nodded the affirmative.  "As to where we're going, that all
depends on where the wand is taking me."

   "Your wand?" She took a quick look around.  "And you're getting
directions from it from inside your pocket?"

   "Remember when I said that I looked at the facts and decided I had to
go? Well, in the past twenty-four hours, I've had a mother lode of
information dropped on me.  One of which had me stealing something that was
apparently very special to me.  At least, that's what my friend Daphne
said." She reached up into the truck's visor and pulled out a long, thin
piece of wood, which Bella rightfully assumed was the wand.  "Of course, I
trust Daphne.  So I have every right to believe that I am in possession of
the Elder Wand.  And if it wasn't mine, I wouldn't have been able to summon
it straight into my palm, past all protections."

   "So, what is all of that supposed to mean?"

   "There's a fable that children born into magic would read, like a fairy
tale.  But most fairy tales are based on facts in a world filled with
magic. However, this is one of the few books that was probably a
nonfiction. Collect three objects, and you have the power to control your
own power, your fate, and death itself.  And this was the last piece in the
puzzle.  Funny, how life works like that."

   "Is that how you managed to get to my, umm...  world?"

   "As far as I can tell.  Had I not unknowingly taken ownership of it
minutes before Harry went through the veil, even with two of the objects on
him, we likely wouldn't have survived.  Our magicks are tied and his fate
is mine.  So this wand, should work for the both of us easily.

   "The actual problem is finding the veil.  It's hidden in his world. 
Inaccessible until it's revealed.  We know where it is, but we can't do
anything about it until we use a reveal charm on it - from this wand.  And
now, I have to get this to him."

   "What veil did you use to get to me?"

   "It was in the outskirts of your town, Forks.  You didn't notice, but
while you were writing in your journal, I drove through it.  The problem is
that I drove /right/ through it.  It did nothing, like it wasn't even
there. We're still in your world.  The one at my home and the one near you
seem quite insistent that I don't get directly to Harry.  I don't feel
positive about the next one."

   "So, is there a giant veil in the outskirts of my town, now?"

   "It was a timed reveal charm.  Should have disappeared in minutes.  What
really concerns me is the lack of power I have over these portals."

   Bella tucked her legs underneath her, and leaned against the window. 
"Well, when you thought of Harry, and landed here, could that mean that he
could actually be where I am?  In the outskirts of New York, you said?  We
have one of those, you know."

   "I don't remember reading in your books about superheroes destroying and
rebuilding your New York."

   Bella pondered to herself for a moment.  "Well...  in a sense, we do."

   Hermione swiftly turned her head to the teen who was now biting her lip.
Damn, they needed to stop at another hotel soon.  "Oh?  Do tell."

   "They're not superheroes, per se," she tried to explain, "but they
certainly try to be.  Not the world, but they do a pretty good job saving
the city.  I'd say they are the purest form of vigilantism."

   "I see." She focused on the road again, her magic temporarily driving
for her.  "So there are a few of these 'heroes'.  Do you think any of them
would like to help me?"

   "As far as I heard, they're dealing with some bad guy."

   "How big of a threat is he?"

   "Well, I heard he has a /lot/ of guns and some henchmen more twisted
than he is - and that may be saying something."

   "So why is he the boss?"

   "Money."

   Hermione shook her head.  "That'd do it.  Which part of New York?"

   "I believe it was Staten Island."

   "I've been to a few places: Egypt, France, Japan, Germany.  Never the
States.  So I wouldn't know how to apparate there.  And seeing as I left
Harry's Firebolt at home..."

   "Guess we've got a ride ahead of us." She was quiet for a few moments.
"So why do you think the veil won't take you there?"

   "It has another name - the Veil of Death.  Unless you have the three
tools I told you about, unfortunately, coming back through is impossible.
The fact that I can, presumably, control death, assures us passage.  It all
seems to be soul-based.  The veil takes your soul, so Harry having
ownership of the other two objects keeps me safe.  He never takes off the
ring, and he always keeps the cloak somewhere on his person or immediately
available, no matter what.  So the theory I've been working on might have
some weight if the next veil doesn't let me through."

   "And what theory is that?"

   "That something even more powerful than death itself is working directly
against me.  And I'm not particularly fond of that idea."

   There was a chilling silence between the two.  And as they drove down
the path on a cross-country ride, contemplating the perilous journey ahead
of them, Hermione headed back to a relatively safer topic.

   "This villain.  What's his name?"

   The pale teen blushed.  "I don't think I should say."

   "Oh, great," Hermione muttered.  "Another one whose name must not be
said."

   "It's not that," Bella said quickly.  "It just...  shouldn't be said. 
It's not exactly the most subtle name."

   "...You're not sending me to face Beetlejuice, are you?"

   "Who?" She shook her head.  "No.  That name's very subtle in comparison
to...  well..." She leaned over, and whispered the name into her ear.

   Hermione blinked a few times.  "Oh.  Wow." She looked over to the
embarrassed teen.  "I suppose there's a fascinating story behind the name?"

   "Not one I'm interested in hearing," Bella said quickly, shaking her
head wildly.

   "You'd think after what you were moaning in that hotel room, you would
have no trouble saying his name, now."

   The ebony-haired beauty looked at Hermione with a semi-serious
expression.  "You say it."

   "The old me would have had a serious problem with this sort of
language," she chuckled, "But that was a long time ago.  Arguably, better
times.  Now," she smiled, her eyes firmly set on the road, "pardon my
French, but what do you say we go help out, team up and vanquish /The
Motherfucker/?"

   Bella fully recognized herself as an adult.  However, even she couldn't
help but laugh - something the pale teen hadn't done much of in a very long
time, but was now able to do regularly.  "I guess that sounds like a plan."
   For more, please go to http://rihaansfics.com/Adult