Chapter 33: Plan-ish #33

'How the hell did it come to this...?' I bitterly mused as I swung away from the docks, looking down at the giggling, demented blonde clinging to me like a particularly deranged octopus.

Harley looked too giddy for someone who could be dropped to their death by my whim, and that pissed me off to no end.

The crazy bitch insisted I'd give her a ride when we reached the edge of the docks with the gangsters hot on our tail, or she'd go back and topple the warehouse on her own, and I had no option but to oblige. 

Honestly, I had no idea how that twisted mind of hers worked and how she could trust me not to drop to her death, and that's why I wanted nothing to do with her, aside from, you know, her demented, gets-off-on-kicking-babies boyfriend.

My entire encounter with her had been one weird learning experience, and it reminded me why I despised DC and comics in general in my past life and why I was right.

Other than her habit of returning to the Joker only to get beaten, maimed, tortured, and abused by the demented clown, which we already established, I hated with a passion. Harley was one of those non-powered characters who'd pull tricks out of their asses to thrash people they had no business beating.

It's this kind of shit that turned me off and made me stop reading DC comics, where someone like Darkseid, who could causally bitch-slap Superman, would win, only for some unpowered, baseline human schmuck from the Justice League to show up and best him somehow.

I mean, I was no Darkseid, and Harley wasn't really without powers, since her movement speed and reflexes suggested some physical enhancement. But the idea that she could take out a gas that conveniently bypassed my gasmask (which really wasn't cheap, I know, since I stole the damned thing) and my healing factor, even briefly, was pure bullshit.

I call bullshit, and no amount of Batman fanboy-ish arguments over the internet could convince me it was only natural for someone to beat people at least two or three times stronger than themselves with a bunch of gadgets because of preparation.

'I wonder if I should just knock her ass out and let her fall...'

I noncommittally hummed as I looked down at the crazy blonde who wasn't giving me the time of her day and was merely enjoying the ride and the sights, but I shook my head and pushed down the urge.

"Ouch!" I heard Harley exclaim in pain, and my expression darkened under my mask as I turned to her, finding her holding her jaw after she tried to bite my shoulder through the bulletproof trench coat.

"Ya were just thinking o' doin' something funny, weren't cha?" Harley exclaimed with a scowl, genuinely looking offended as she noticed me looking down at her.

"Maybe I was, but what made you think biting me would change my mind?" I asked, my eyes twitching under the mask, and I had to resist the urge to headbutt her and send her flying to the ground.

"Do I look like the thinking type to ya?" Harley said, grinning without a hint of shame, as if taking pride in her natural air-headedness, and I could do nothing but sigh in exasperation as I steered us into the nearest roof, having made enough distance away from the docks.

"Whoa! That was fun! We should totally do that again! " Harley exclaimed as she loosened her death grip on me, jumping up and down in excitement.

"Don't count on it," I replied, shaking my head as I heaved a sigh, happy that I managed to pull through without losing my patience and just letting the crazy blonde fall to her death.

I might have seemed more than willing to kill her and be done with her nonsense, but I was actually hesitant to do it, despite trying to do it twice now.

I knew I'd have blood on my hands sooner or later, but I always thought I'd kill some monster like Killer Croc or some seedy low-life gangster in self-defense first and not to silence someone for my own convenience.

Harley was a monster in her own right, in more ways than one, but she wasn't trying to kill me as far as I knew, and she wasn't trying to screw me over either, yet I honestly couldn't get over my paranoia.

"Awe... yer no fun, Gray," Harley said, pouting as her shoulders dropped in disappointment. "So, what were ya doing there? Ya got a bone to pick with Black Mask, too?" she asked, surprisingly choosing to get straight to the point, and I had no reason to not oblige.

"So those were Black Mask goons?" I asked, and Harley gave me a confused look, tilting her head. "I was in the middle of scoping out the place when you showed up with a bazooka," I added, my eyes twitching in annoyance at the smug look she gave me while patting the bazooka slung over her shoulder, which she didn't forget to pick up before we left.

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"Anyway, I have my own reasons for targeting the warehouse, but that's not what we're here to talk about," I explained, gesturing to the side before the crazy blonde could start asking questions.

"We're here to make a plan before going back to attack the warehouse," I added, unmindful of Harley's pout, which I did not think looked cute. Yup, definitely not cute at all.

"I don't enjoy being shot at, so we should do this with some subtlety until we get in, at least," I added, as I took out a pen and a piece of paper, ready to make a plan and explain it to the crazy blonde, but she quickly cut me off.

"Look at me, pal. I'm wearin' bright red, an' my hair is two different colors on each end," Harley said, raising an eyebrow as she interrupted me before I could even say another word. "I don't do subtlety," she concluded, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Well, if you want a couple of dozen goons shooting at you with machine guns, then, by all means, be my guest," I said, sighing as I scratched my head. "Just wait until I sneak into the warehouse before you start going crazy. I'll have a better chance of getting what you want from inside that way, "I concluded, shrugging my shoulders.

"An' hog all the fun for myself?" Harley said, rubbing her chin as she displayed what I would imagine to be a rare thoughtful expression that few people have even seen. "Sounds good to me," she added, giving me a thumbs up and a radiant smile.

"You said something about your babies being in the warehouse?" I asked, nodding without bothering to question why she'd agree to a plan that put her in the crossfire of several dozen trigger-happy thugs with machine guns.

"Bud and Lou, my two adorable spotted hyenas!" Harley exclaimed, eagerly nodding her head, a fond, loving smile splitting her face. "They're just the cutest pair o' furry murder machines!" she added, spreading her arms to the side.

"Some losers stole'em off the zoo, an' they're plannin' on sellin' em in an auction," Harley explained, her fond smile disappearing, replaced by a pissed-off expression. "The bat sends ya off to Arkham for a month, and suddenly every loser an' their mother thinks it's ok to fuck with ya!" the crazy blonde remarked with a huff, giving me an indignant look.

"They sound charming," I said, suppressing a sigh."I'll clear the inside of the warehouse, and you can come and get them yourself," I added, shrugging my shoulder. Yeah, I'm not dealing with a pair of spotted hyenas myself.

"Sounds good to me, so what are we waitin' for?" Harley asked, eagerly nodding as she held my sleeve and started walking, trying to drag me back to the docks, but I stood unmoving.

"Not right now," I replied, shaking my head as I held her wrist and removed her hand from my sleeve. "I still have to take care of some things first," I added, shrugging my shoulder, much to Harley's annoyance, as she gave me an impatient look.

"Whatcha mean, not right now?" Harley asked, putting her hands on her hips, not bothering to hide her impatience and annoyance. "They've got my babies, and mama's got a reputation to keep!" she added, raising an eyebrow.

"Like I said, I have some things to take care of, so we can go tomorrow," I remarked, turning my character screen and eyeing the level 9 Acrobat class. I only needed one more level to max it and unlock that archetype thingy, which would probably give me a power boost.

"We'll have a better chance of getting your babies out that way," I concluded, shrugging my shoulders as I observed Harley's expression that began shifting.

"Fine, but we do it tomorrow, and no later than that!

 

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