Chapter Text
A car horn blared a beeeeAAAAApppp!
Harley’s forehead stung.
She found herself leaning her head on the steering wheel of the BMW 3 Series E46 she bought off a chop shop last week for this job. Made them install an aftermarket engine and a limited stiff differential to lock the two rear wheels. She also asked for an angle kit, modified knuckles, extended lower control arms, and rack spacers.
For the past hour, she had been drifting off, only to wake up quick with a jolt like she was trying to stay awake on an airplane to avoid jet lag.
Her eyes shifted to the car clock. Ever wait in the car for your friend to “run a quick errand” only to be waiting in the car for what feels like foreva?
Waiting was the worst part of being the “getaway” driver. Did she mind being the supporting part? You know what? Sometimes, she did! BUT! In this particular instance, it made sense, OKAY? Also, robbing these office buildings was getting old. Becomin’ a snoozefest.
The last time they had robbed a bank, a museum, or an art gallery, ya know, the fun stuff, was ages ago!
Mimicking, Ivy’s raspy voice, Harley said aloud, “No, Harls. This is a one-woman job. It’s just hacking a computer in the dark. You’d be bored even though you can hack computers, too…Oh, actually, can you be the getaway driver because it is a way better idea to have someone ready to go?”
Apparently, Red needed to do this STAR Labs job alone, and if Harley went in with her and then also had to start the car, they would lose…Harley could not remember the precise amount of time, but Red had it timed down to the second, and said they couldn’t spare a single millisecond or something like that. Harley had tuned out this part because…Ivy was getting way too into the details and it was bringing the whole job further into snoozeville. (AS IF THAT WERE POSSIBLE!)
Plus, the driving role of this job was arguably the best, most fun part.
But, here Harley was waiting on the Queen of Punctuality to make her entrance.
That’s why it was concerning that Red was supposed to be there five minutes ago.
“It’s all right. Ivy’s fine, and you didn’t want to sneak around a dark office buildin’ while Red steals computer files,” she said to herself. “It’s super borin’.” Sardonically, she added, “Surely not as borin’ as this.”
As she looked out the car window to the dark skyscraper across the street, she popped a fresh piece of bubblegum in her mouth, and zoned out a bit thinking about plot holes in Soderbergh’s Ocean's 11.
For example, the vault floor sensors were never explained! How did the crew shut them off?
What about the sound alarms when they blow open the vault? That would have been a dead giveaway.
Oh! And, then there was the security camera feed. Where did they get the static footage of the vault to replace the live feed of them breakin’ in?
She looked at the clock again. Now they were ten minutes off. “Where the fuck is she?”
Suddenly, she saw the alarm lights go off in the STAR Labs building. A bright white glow blinked out each floor, unsynchronized like camera flashes.
“Not again, Red,” Harley said, letting out a long sigh.
Harley saw Ivy leaving the office building. For being supposedly undercover with her workwear outfit, lab coat, and a backpack that contained a NVMe external SSD and whatever the hell else she was looking for in there, she was pretty fucking obvious.
Running in heels, Ivy took her lab coat off, revealing her leafy leotard top, keeping the pair of dress pants on. She opened the door, hopped in, and said, “Go!”
“What happened?”
“My pheromones didn’t work. Go!”
“Whatcha mean they didn’t work? Ain’t they like part of ya?”
“I’ve been having difficulty with…Just go, please.” Ivy buried her face in the palm of her left hand.
“It’s okay, Red. I hear the older ya get, the more—“
“Can we like just go before Gordon sends half of the GCPD after us? Or worse—“
“Bats,” Harley said, looking in the rearview mirror.
“Exactly.”
“No, we got Bat Brats surrounding us.” Harley looked around, using her mirrors to see their positioning.
A baby bird on a red sports motorcycle with his stupid logo on it, and Bratgirl on her black one. Not the most prudent vehicle choices for a rainy night. Easy.
“Are we all buckled up?” Harley asked cheerily as she adjusted the rearview mirror and blew a bubble with her gum.
Annoyed, Ivy said, “Can you just—“
Without warning, Harley shifted the manual transmission into gear and put the car in reverse, accelerating. Her and Ivy watched the Bat Brats overshoot the stop and drive right by them.
Still driving, Harley laughed, saying, “Psyche!” as she shifted the manual gear, spun the wheel right, drifted, transitioning forward. Tires screeched into a perfect 180 entry. From the force, Ivy leaned into her, pressed up against her, warm body on warm body.
Wow, she smelled like flowers and rain.
“Finish yer thought?” Harley asked, eyes scanning the mirrors for the inevitable Bats to follow.
“My—ugh, my—oh, um,” Pamela stuttered. Her head still rested on Harley’s shoulder. Realizing this, she sat upright like she didn’t want to get caught doing something embarrassing. “My thought…I had a thought.”
“Be quick. The Bat Brat Buddies are on our tails.”
Ivy’s green eyes looked up at Harley. For some reason, they looked larger, cuter, unsure.
Wow the tendrils she had swirling up her cheek were so pretty. They looked like pressed flowers.
“Go?” Ivy said.
“Faster?” Harley asked, raising her eyebrows. She turned up the radio volume and hit the throttle, sending them into the streets of Gotham.
“Where’d you learn to do this?” Ivy asked, gripping the seat of the car with both hands.
“In high school I dated a guy really into street racin’.” In the rearview mirror, she saw Birdboy coming up on them.
“That still doesn’t—“
Harley spun the wheel left.
Hitched the clutch.
Hit the throttle.
Turned a corner and pulled the e-brake to take a sharp turn.
Stepped on the gas again.
Weaved through the pedestrian cars of whoever the fuck was out at three in the morning.
Turned the other way. Right.
The force pulled Ivy into her again. That smell again. Her soft, red hair tickling Harley’s arm. Holy shit.
Turned right gain. The centrifugal force drew Ivy closer. Now, her cheek pressing into Harley’s neck. Lips lightly brushing against her skin.
Harley had chills. Everywhere.
Now driving straight forward, she sped up, neon lights passing by the window.
In the rearview mirror, she caught a flash of red. Apparently, Boy Wonder had caught up.
Instinctually, she turned, drifted, zig-zagged through the grid of Gotham’s downtown.
Left. Right. Screech. Pop. Vroom. Straight. A purr. A brum.
The scent of metallic, smokey exhaust, hot plastic, and burnt rubber tires filled the car.
Harley loved this smell. Lived for this smell.
The momentum of the drifts were like waves, pulling and pushing Ivy against Harley to back in her seat to the passenger door.
Ivy’s eyes seemed entranced as she watched how Harley’s hands moved on the gear shift, spun the wheel, pulled the E-brake. Her mouth was half-open in awe like she wasn’t even looking at their surroundings, which was so unlike Ivy. Usually, Ivy was especially aware of her surroundings with a vigilance of someone waiting to spot, thwart, and obliterate their next threat.
After Harley drifted left again, her eyes met with Ivy’s, who smiled slightly, like she was surprised, but shouldn’t have been. Ivy stayed like that, even after they were simply driving.
“I think we lost ‘em!” Harley said, before noticing the red and blue lights in the distance.
“Whatdidyousay?” Ivy asked like she had lost the ability to comprehend spoken language.
“Never mind. Spoke too soon.”
The sirens rang, moaned, rumbled in her chest.
Lights, shades of blues and reds, reflected in the wet, puddled, streets and the drizzled windows.
This was way more than a few police cars.
The first spree they had ended when they got too ambitious and kidnapped Batman, which was how they landed in Arkham together in the first place. Lesson learned.
And, since their recent Arkham breakout, it wasn’t exactly like they had been keeping a low profile. All the fun was in the heists, and Ivy had other plans for whatever she was doing with her research in her lab. In short, they had been robbin’ a lot of places as of late.
The media had deemed them the “Queens of Crime.” Showed pictures of their mug shots alongside their last professional headshots taken back when Harley was a licensed medical doctor and Ivy was a respected scientist.
It was the first time on the news Harley had been referred to as “Harley Quinn” instead of “The Joker’s (ex-)girlfriend and former psychiatrist, Dr. Harleen Quinzel.” It was exhilarating.
Personally, Harley loved the costumes of them people had worn for that year’s Halloween. Queens of Crime was popular with the college girls partying all weekend.
Anyway, with all the publicity and the actually fun heists, Harley was having the time of her life.
It was nice to do some crimes for once that didn’t revolve around Batsy being the prime target.
Harley accelerated, zig-zagging around and past the civilian cars on the streets. As she drove, a song she hated came on the car speakers. She took her phone out and said, “I fucking hate Coldplay. How’d that get in my library? Ives, did ya’ add—”
“HARLEY, WATCH OUT!” Ivy yelled.
A pedestrian was in the middle of the crosswalk. Harley immediately dropped her phone and swerved away just in time, causing them to spin out.
It was a lucky thing that Ivy had given her that immunity shot that also made her stronger and more agile because she was able to keep control of the steering wheel with one hand, use the E-brake and stick-shift, and hit the clutch all at once.
The whole time, Ivy squeezed her leg, like she was trying to make sure Harley was still there.
When the car stabilized, Ivy seemed to have enough whiplash that prevented her from lashing out at Harley for getting distracted and looking at her phone.
However, the spin-out resulted in the police and Batgirl catching up with them. No time to take a breath, Harley drove forward.
Harley’s mind raced. They were close to their destination, but she needed to get a head start for Ivy’s emergency car chase plan to work. (Yes, Ivy had one of those. In fact, Ivy had a whole file folder on her computer and phone of backup plans like the totally overly prepared control freak she was.)
The thumping, rippling of helicopter propellors roared above them. A spotlight shined on their car.
Harley had always been a fan of Grand Theft Auto. If she had told thirteen year old Harleen Quinzel she would be in a real life car chase scene worthy of five stars, she probably would have thought she was fucking awesome.
With all the commotion around them, the aggressors chasing them, Harley was almost too distracted to realize, next to her Ivy was now focused on the road, but her hand was still squeezing Harley’s thigh. Every time Harley revved the engine and switched gears to go faster, Ivy’s fingers squirmed.
Harley’s breath stuttered, got stuck in her throat.
Catching a glance over at her passenger, Harley noticed that Ivy had closed her eyes. Her breathing was shallow. Her cheeks flushed with pink hues.
There was no way she was scared. Ivy didn’t get scared about stuff like this. Usually, she had an adrenaline rush that made her giggly and smug.
But, today, she had not been giddy and smug. Today she was….shy?
Was Ivy…enjoyin’ this a bit too much? Gettin’ off on this? The closeness, the vibrations of the engine revving to top speeds, the adrenaline rush? In high intensity situations like this the brain had trouble differentiating between pleasure and fear. It was called “misattribution of arousal.”
The thought made Harley’s skin tingle. It wasn’t like they didn’t have any sexual tension, but Ivy was always avoidant of close contact like that.
One time, after a bank robbery, they had been celebrating with sparkling wine and Harley tried to dance with her since they were stuck in hiding and couldn’t go somewhere proper. Ivy lasted two songs before Harley took her hands, and pulled her in for a twirl, held her from behind. Swayed back and forth. It wasn’t even a slow song! But that was enough for Ivy to break the embrace, and say she was tired and needed to go sleep. She left Harley standing in the middle of her living room holding half a bottle of champagne.
Ivy let out a sigh and then abruptly removed her hand from Harley’s thigh. Harley thought she heard Ivy whisper, “Shit,” before crossing her arms, but the engine revving was too loud for Harley to be sure.
Ya’ know what? It was probably just Ivy talkin’ to some plants.
Now, Ivy’s face was a deep, deep red.
Or not?
When Harley snapped out of thinking about how hot Ivy looked, and if she was getting some unintentional pleasure out of the mechanics of the car vibrations and the adrenaline rush of the chase, out her window she saw Batgirl on her motorcycle at pace with them.
Harley slowed their speed and rolled the window down. As she drove, she said with a big smile, “Bratgirl! Long time, no see! Whatchu doin’ out on a school night?”
Batgirl put on her deep, ‘I am in charge’ voice that was both adorable and hilarious. (Harley gave her a break because she was new at this.) “Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, this crime spree needs to end! Make it easy on yourselves and stop this car immediately!”
“Look, girlie, don’t make me swerve inta’ ya. Because I will, and it will not be pretty for ya. I’m thinkin’ at this speed, yer easily breaking yer back, shoulder, and gettiin’ some head trauma that could warrant a moderate to severe traumatic brain injury. Trust me. I’m a doctah.”
“Harls, just do it!” Ivy said. “Get rid of her!”
However, before Harley could respond, a loud thud hit the roof of the car.
“Shit.”
Batgirl had disappeared.
“She’s on the fucking roof, ain’t she?” Harley deadpanned.
A thunk rattled above them. Three little metal spikes appeared through the roof of the car. With a click, they spread out, creating a grapple effect.
“Yup,” Ivy said, curt. She nodded and breathed in, closing her eyes. “There’s a tree on fifth. Drive under it.”
Harley handled the steering wheel right, drifting into a right turn on to 67th street. Turned again onto 5th, hoping that Bratgirl was just trying to hold on and didn’t have an actual plan.
Ivy fashioned vines into holding her in place from a plant she was carrying in her bag. She rolled down the window, and stuck her head out to see if Batgirl had a plan.
When Ivy fully got back into he passenger seat, she said, “The tree should take care of her. We’re almost there.”
Speeding up, Harley saw the tree. As she drove under it, Ivy did her magic, and Harley heard a thump and then a screech of something landing and then scratching the roof of the car. The grapple lost its grip, puncturing a hole in the roof.
Ivy looked out the passenger mirror, then window, and confirmed Batgirl was currently tangled up in the tree.
“Ya’ gotta show me how those vines of yers work sometime,” Harley said, winking over at Ivy, making her blush and wiggle in her seat.
Harley loved making Ivy feel flustered! Usually, Ivy was composed, calculated, confident, but seeing her vulnerable, seeing her human, made Harley’s heart melt.
The sirens in the distance grew louder. The helicopter spotlight illuminated brighter. More red and blue lights surrounded them blinked and glowed, reflecting off the puddles, the mist, and droplets windows of the buildings surrounding them.
It was honestly quite beautiful.
“They’re telling me there are police blockades to every entrance to Robinson Park,” Ivy said.
Before Harley could respond, a flash of a black vehicle, a high pitch zoom, a thundering wave of vibrations flew by them.
“It’s Batsy, himself,” Harley said, calmly. “We got this.” Bobbed her head a few times with short, successive nods. But, then suddenly she screamed, “I AINT GOIN’—GOIN’ BACK TO ARKHAM!” Harley could feel her driving movements get more erratic. The car almost floated right toward the sidewalk. She shook her head. “Specially with HIM there! I’ve been doin’ so good, Red.”
“Shhhhhshhhshhsh,” Ivy said, palm back on Harley’s leg. Caressed it. “That’s not going to happen. Try to focus, babe.”
“I’m just having’ so much fun with you. Like, Mistah J almost neva’ let me drive even though I’m like way better than him, and if I did get to drive, we always had to be goin for Batsy, not actually escaping’ until we were almost like dead.”
“Hey! Listen to me,” Ivy said soft and sweet. “We are not going back to Arkham tonight. I promise you. But, peanut, I need you to focus so we can get home. We are so close.”
“Ever since I escaped with you—“ Harley yanked the steering wheel to the left and then the right again to avoid the spike strip released from the back of the Batmobile.
“Sweetie, can we talk about this when we get home?” Ivy said, smiling.
“Hold on, ever since I escaped with you, I’ve been havin’ the most fun I’ve had in my entire life. It’s—it’s like I’m finally—“
The Batmobile shot out a grappling hook, causing Harley to swerve again, tires squealing as she dodged it.
Harley slowed down and spun into a J-turn to turn around. Hit the gas to accelerate. Kept going. Faster. No matter what, she was getting them to Robinson Park!
The sirens wailed again.
A tap that escalated into a clunk resonated on the back driver’s side of the car — a light touch nudging them as a warning.
Batsy.
Right next to them.
Harley held the steering wheel, slightly turning it to slide, metal screeching against the side of the Batmobile.
Swiftly, she swerved away to avoid the spikes jutting out on the sides of his tires, preventing him from puncturing theirs.
Then she saw it: in the distance under the streetlights, the iron arch with ‘Robinson Park’ written on it. However, the road leading into the park was surrounded by a complete blockade of police cars. Spike strips laid across the pavement.
Harley glanced over at Ivy who said, “Keep going!” and unconsciously grabbed Harley’s thigh again.
“Pammy, he’s go forty on us. At least! An’ he can go ova the spikes!””
“I’ve got a plan. Keep going!”
Harley looked over at her. Their eyes met. Breathing was shallow. There was no one on Earth Harley trusted more than Pammy.
So, Harley accelerated.
Over the spikes.
POP. POP. SNAP. CLANK. The car jerked forward. Harley struggled to control the steering wheel.
The car slowed. Then a rapid ka-thud, kathud. The now-bumpy terrain from the destroyed tires made the car shake, the rims rhythmically grinding against the ground. Orange sparks flew around them, glowed in the mirrors and at the bottom of their windows.
They began to slow, like something was dragging them back. The car vibrated as if it was falling apart.
“I got you,” Ivy said.
The car began to spin out. Harley used all her strength to try and keep it straight.
Harley’s life flashed before her eyes as they went straight into the police blockade.
The time she got caught slippin’ a note to her crush in third grade.
The first gymnastics medal she won.
That Little League game when she robbed a home run by using the fence as a dismount to leap into the air and catch the ball.
When her grandmother died.
Her first kiss with Bernie.
Gettin’ an almost perfect score on the SATs.
When her father asked her to throw the her qualifying meet for the US Olympic team.
That affair she had with her college professor.
Graduating from medical school.
Being offered an internship at Arkham.
Meeting Mist—
But! Then tree roots popped out of the ground, curled around the cars, removing them from the road, creating a gap.
And, as they went through the gap, a wall of roots, trees, and bushes closed the road behind them.
Later, Harley would learn, Ivy had sent the roots to grow up through the pavement, stopping Batsy and all the police cars chasing them. Then she had the entrances swell so thick with overgrowth that it was impossible to enter the park. She called it her own natural version of road spikes.
The car slowed and veered to the right. Somehow, miraculously, Harley kept control until Ivy’s vines caught them, cradling them, slowing them down so they wouldn’t have whiplash. The car stopped dead.
They both didn’t talk. Didn’t look at each. Just sat and stared. Breathed.
Harley’s hands were still planted to the steering wheel. Ivy’s hands subtly shook.
“Holy fucking shit!” Harley yelled before a series of water droplets pattered onto the roof of car as it began to downpour. She cackled in disbelief. “How the fuck did we pull that off?”
“I don’t know,” Ivy said before she also erupted into nervous laughter.
Harley grabbed both of Ivy’s hands and squealed, “That’s was fuckin’ insane!”
“It was!” Ivy said with an uncharacteristically big grin. Her grip tightened around Harley’s hands, and Harley had never felt this connected to someone ever. It was like their eyes could see into each others’ souls; that lighting had struck not just once, but again and again and again.
“Look at us, totally schoolin’ Bats!”
When their eyes met, they paused for a moment. Tentatively, Harley leaned toward Pamela, craned her neck up so their lips could meet. For a second, it appeared Pam was about to meet her. It was like a tether connected them, like each were pulling toward each other.
However, Ivy broke eye contact and shifted her jaw before she grabbed her backpack with whatever she stole from STAR labs. “Thank you for driving,” she said and opened the car door.
In the rain, Ivy started to walk toward the greenhouse.
Still reeling, Harley breathed. Her hands gripped the steering wheel like it was a life-line. Muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” as her head dipped down, hitting her forehead on the steering wheel again, the loud beep of the horn startling her. “Ow, damn it!” Harley said, rubbing her forehead before she got out of the car and followed Ivy back to the greenhouse.
Selina Kyle scaled the side of the condo skyscraper, magnetic catclaws allowing her to complete a dyno leap over a window pane to the steel cladding on its right. The tower swayed as hissing gales blew past. A mist of water droplets hit her face, beading on her goggles.
Was this the best night to do this? With the oncoming rain and the wind speed, of course it wasn’t, but Selina had a deadline, and she was cutting it close at this point. She had to get the Elliot family’s string of black pearls from Margot Elliot’s penthouse apartment. Selina got word that Margot, cousin of Thomas Elliot, would be attending a gala for Gotham Children’s Hospital this weekend. The necklace would be out of the family’s safe-deposit box and in Margot’s walk-in closet’s secret safe.
Below, the streets of Gotham irradiated with flashes of blue and red reflecting in the wet pavement, the slippery buildings. Selina glanced down and saw a dozen police cars, sirens blaring together in a discordant symphony.
Stemming between two vertical beams, Selina finally made it to Margot Elliot’s balcony. She enabled the thermal imaging on her goggles to spot any people in the penthouse apartment. When she was all in the clear, she used her whip to grapple onto a railing, swinging herself below so she could pull herself up.
She stood surveying the city and saw the police brigade hadn’t let up. They were definitely chasing someone in the direction of Robinson Park.
It had to be Harley and Ivy. They had been on a spree in recent weeks, and Selina couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the whole spectacle. Ivy was probably at stress-level-ten from all the publicity. She was not one for the constant chases in succession like this, preferring to toil away in her lab until the right moment to strike.
She shook her head. “Those crazy bitches,” she muttered to herself with a smile.
For a billionairess, Margot Elliot had laughable security with her mortise lock on the door and an out-of-date operating system. Selina took out the RFID chip she cloned from the maintenance guy for the building. With her magnetic bypass tool, she hovered her hand below the metal half-cylinder, waiting for the pin in the latch to pull out by the rare earth metal's force. She opened the maintenance port hidden beneath a tube disguising the port as trimming. After a vibration, she felt a click at the metal pin latch clicked right to the magnet.
Used a burner tablet to override the maintenance-port, the security protocols ignoring her due to her valid maintenance authentication credentials. The door’s interior pressure seals decompressed softly when the override disengaged.
She was in. The penthouse, dark, filled with modern furniture, was completely devoid of any personal touches. Typical filthy rich person home, if one could even call it that.
Selina made her way to the bedroom’s walk-in closet. It had floor-to-ceiling custom millwork cabinets. She could tell each one had a display light, though no lights would be on for this job. She opened the velvet lined drawer, fingers pressing around for the hidden compartment.
Wealthy people never kept their jewelry in view. Usually, they had a trick compartment containing a safe in their closets. She found it behind a shoe shelf. Tempted to see if the Jimmy Choos displayed were a size seven, Selina told herself to focus. She wasn’t there for that, and with this job’s payout, she could buy dozens of pairs of luxury shoes.
Once again finding the maintenance override cylinder to the safe’s electric lock, Selina used a magnet release clip to unlock the safe. With a click, the panel came off with ease.
Inside the secret compartment was the prize she had come all this way for—a string of dainty, black pearls.
“Hello, you pretty thing,” Selina said to the necklace and took it off its bust by unclasping it and carefully wrapped it in a silk cloth.
At the entrance to Robinson Park there was a fountain with siren statues carved from granite, four of them in the center backs facing each other. The water had been turned off. To think of it, it hadn’t been on in almost six years.
Barbara Gordon stood in the pouring rain, remembering when she was a kid how her parents would take her here and the fountain was maintained, cleaned, working. How the grass was cut and flowers flourished in well maintained beds in the spring.
However, ever since the city cut the parks budget, the park became a forest of despair—a place no one ventured into because so few came out alive.
Her costume was soaked. It was cold. She pulled a twig with a leaf attached to it out of her red hair. Went to her bike, sat down and revved it up.
“Be careful driving that thing in the rain,” Commissioner Gordon said. He stood under an umbrella.
Batgirl wanted to roll her eyes, but remained professional. “Have a good night, Commissioner,” she said before taking off, knowing that was it for the night.
She had a biology final tomorrow anyway. But after that? Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn had better watch out.
Selina Kyle stood crouched on the rooftop of one of her Alleytown safe house apartments overlooking Finger River and the Narrows. The rain beat down over her leather suit. Her fence was late. Out in the distance red and blue sirens still blinked, glowed, creating a halo of police flashes around Robinson Park.
Knowing Pamela, she had that park locked down. However, were the theatrics intentional? Ivy was never one for theatrics for small jobs. The final product needed to make a statement, of course, but the museum, bank, and corporate espionage were not statement-worthy for Ivy. As the Bat had said last week, these heists were obviously building to something more substantial.
But Harley? Harley was all about making a scene. That girl was five-feet-two inches of pure, unrestrained chaos personified. The worst part was she could be inconspicuous, could probably even give Selina a run for her money when it came to pulling off seemingly impossible jobs seamlessly, but that little blonde hurricane couldn’t help drawing attention to herself.
The whole “Not without Harley” mentality Pamela had adopted within the past couple years had caused her and Selina’s occasional partnership to wane to a rarity now only done so out of desperation by both parties. (Even though Harley’s stays at Pamela’s were both sporadic and unpredictable in length.)
This current incident had been Harley and Ivy’s fifth in two weeks. It was no wonder they were on Bat’s radar. Although Selina knew he saw them more as a nuisance than an actual threat at the moment, it was quite obvious Batman was worried about what plan Ivy could be orchestrating.
A distraction would delay Pamela, but knowing her, it was usually something totally harmless to the average Gothamite or, on the polar opposite end of the spectrum — a plan to end or control the human race.
Finally, Selina’s fence appeared. A tall, burly man in a trench coat, holding an umbrella approached her. He smoked a cigar and smelled like bergamot aftershave and ash.
Selina set the bag filled with the jewels to her left. He stood next to her, dropped an identical duffle down, and picked up Selina’s original one.
They didn’t look at each other. Instead, they both chose to stare at the siren lights.
He blew out his drag. A cloud of smoke covered his head. He said, “A famous actress is looking for a comeback. She needs a fountain of youth serum. Word on the street is Janus Cosmetics has one in R&D. Looking for someone to do a clean sweep of the recipe. No headlines. No bodies. Big payday. Interested?”
“How big we talking?”
“At least five times as tonight’s.”
“Hmmm,” Selina mused, suppressing a smile. “I am running low on lipstick and bronzer.”
With a grunt, her fence turned around and headed back toward the stairwell.
Duffle bag in tow, Selina leaped off the rooftop to the top of the adjacent building, making her way back home for the night.
Selina used the rooftops rather than the streets, leaping and swinging between the buildings, over the alleys. A cat always landed on her feet, after all.
As always, especially after the spectacle she witnessed climbing up the skyscraper to the Elliot penthouse, the Bat was out and looking for her.
She was on the roof of a glass office building built in the 1960s, when she heard, “Cat.” His voice was, as always, gruff, low, and absolutely electrifying as he emerged from the shadows behind her.
“Looking for little old me, Bat?”
“Who else would I be looking for?”
“From the commotion I saw on the streets below, I would’ve thought you’d have your hands full with the house plant and the clown princess.”
“I’m going out of town,” he said.
She walked close to him, looked up into those glowing white eyes, knowing behind them was an enchanting crystal blue piercing through her. Smiling up at that strong, square jawline she knew wanted to crack a smile, but wouldn't allow the mask to slip, she said, “Come to say goodbye?” Low, sultry, knowing this would drive him wild. She closed her eyes when the scent of his sweat and that burnt plastic kevlar hit her. It should smell awful, but on him? It only made Selina want him more.
“I need a favor.”
Of course he did. For the ‘World’s Greatest Detective,’ he sure met a lot of dead ends where he needed Selina's expertise for a workaround.
“Tsk. Tsk. Always, looking to me to do your dirty work. Not that I mind…if it’s mutually beneficial.”
“It’s about Ivy.”
Of course it was about catching Ivy before she did something monumentally impulsive. That temper, that thirst for revenge she swore was vengeance, always got her in a metaphorical forest fire of her own making. What could it be this time? Something subtle like poisoning the reservoirs with mind controlling fungal spores? Or perhaps it was a magnificent display of corporate espionage with a side of CEO homicide?
With a sigh, Selina asked, “What did she do this time?”
“It’s not so much what’s she’d done. It’s what’s she’s planning. And, you’re the only one she’ll let into Robinson Park.”
Selina glanced out into the glowing skyline, jagged edges of blurry light behind a curtain of rain. The crown of police lights still surrounded the park. If she listened beyond the rain, she could hear the faint call of the sirens. What could her old friend be up to?