The city blurred past them in streaks of neon and shadows, the luxury blacked-out SUV humming down the road like a beast prowling through Gotham's streets. Jonny Frost gripped the wheel, sunglasses low on his nose, completely unfazed by the two lunatics in the backseat, giggling and whispering like schoolkids planning the world's most violent prank.
Harley leaned against Joker's side, legs draped over his lap, twirling a strand of her platinum hair around her finger. She grinned up at him, her red lips curled devilishly. "Ya think they're gonna scream, Puddin'?"
Joker tapped his chin, his gold rings glinting in the passing streetlights. "Oh, they'll scream, sugar. The question is… how long?"
Harley giggled, wiggling happily in her seat. "I say at least ten minutes. Maybe fifteen if we get a real screamer."
Joker grinned, pulling a gold-plated revolver from his coat pocket, admiring the gleam. "Ahh, but see, we don't want 'em to scream too long. The audience gets bored. Gotta keep the show fresh."
Harley tapped her chin playfully. "Ooooh, what if we make 'em beg? Ya know, like a real good ol' game show contestant!"
Joker barked a laugh. "Ohhh, you are deliciously evil, my dear." He reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "That's why I love ya."
Harley beamed, snuggling into him, her arms wrapping around his waist. "I love ya more, Mistah J."
Jonny rolled his eyes from the front seat. "You two are disgustin'."
Harley gasped dramatically. "Jonny! That's no way to talk to your bosses!"
Joker smirked, twirling his cane. "Yeah, Jonny boy, what's the matter? Jealous? Hmm?"
Jonny snorted. "Yeah, real jealous of your toxic murder relationship."
Joker and Harley laughed in sync, an eerie harmony of chaos.
The car screeched to a stop outside Gotham National Bank. The towering building loomed in front of them, golden lights glowing warmly through its grand windows. Inside, civilians and bank tellers shuffled about their business, blissfully unaware of the nightmare about to unfold.
Joker clapped his hands together. "Alright, sugar. Showtime."
Harley popped the car door open, stepping out in her high heels, stretching her arms dramatically. "Oooooh, the air smells rich!" She twirled her bat in one hand, pressing a finger to her lips. "How we doin' this, baby? Guns blazin'? Or somethin' more fun?"
Joker hummed, pretending to think as he adjusted his gold chains. Then he simply lifted his revolver and shot the first security guard in the head.
BANG!
The gunshot cracked through the air like thunder. The guard crumpled instantly, blood splattering the pristine concrete stairs.
Screams erupted inside. People turned. Eyes widened in horror. The room froze.
Harley let out a delighted giggle. "Ohhh, ya always know how to make an entrance, Puddin'!"
Joker spread his arms dramatically. "Thank you, thank you! No autographs, please!"
And with that, they stormed inside.
Harley swung her bat, cracking it across a banker's skull with a sickening CRACK! The poor man barely had time to scream before she twisted and drove the bat into another teller's ribs, sending them crashing over a desk.
Joker, meanwhile, twirled his revolver in one hand and effortlessly shot three more people—one in the forehead, one in the stomach, and one poor soul trying to crawl away. Blood sprayed across the mahogany counters, painting them in chaotic beauty.
The remaining civilians scrambled, tripping over themselves, desperate to escape.
Joker's voice cut through the mayhem. "Ah-ah-ah! Nobody moves! Nobody touches a thing!" He pointed his gun at a trembling man by the counter. "Or I start turning this into a game of who dies first!"
Harley giggled, blowing a bubble with her gum. "Ya heard 'im! Back there! Now!" She gestured with her bat toward the back office.
The terrified civilians obeyed, hands raised, shuffling toward the designated spot.
Joker smirked, wiping a bit of blood from his cheek. "Now… let's get this little game started, shall we?"
Joker whistled a little tune as he strutted through the bank, twirling his revolver in his hand. Harley skipped alongside him, her high heels clicking against the blood-slick marble floor as she chewed her bubblegum, eyes darting around like a kid in a candy store.
The civilians huddled in the back, trembling, hands clutching each other in silent prayers that wouldn't be answered.
Joker turned on his heel, grinning wide. "Now, now, my little contestants! We gotta set the stage! What kinda host would I be if I didn't make sure you all had some fun?"
Harley clapped excitedly, bouncing on her toes. "Ooooh, I love game night!" She twirled her bat before jabbing it into a cowering businessman's ribs. "C'mon, puddin'! What's first?"
Joker rubbed his chin dramatically, eyes flickering across the pristine bank lobby. The giant crystal chandeliers sparkled above, reflecting the chaotic masterpiece they had already begun painting in blood. The grand mahogany teller desks stood empty now, abandoned in the panic.
Then his gaze landed on the vault.
His grin widened. "First… we make sure Batsy knows we're here."
Harley squealed, clapping her hands. "Ya hear that, folks? We're puttin' on a show!"
She skipped toward the duffel bags Jonny Frost and the goons had left by the entrance. Kneeling down, she unzipped one, revealing a treasure trove of chaos—explosives, ropes, knives, timers, and a couple of Joker's special toys.
Joker grabbed a stack of playing cards and flicked them through his fingers like a magician before casually tossing a handful onto the floor. As they landed, tiny red LED lights blinked to life on their edges. "Pressure mines," he mused, winking at Harley. "Step on one, and boom—you're confetti!"
Harley giggled, threw one toward the hostages. They flinched, but the card landed harmlessly in front of them. "Ooooh, we should make 'em dance through 'em later!"
Joker tapped his temple. "That's round two, sugarplum."
They moved fast. Joker's goons helped rig the entrance with tripwires and grenades strung together with piano wire—enough firepower to turn the front doors into a very messy welcome mat. Harley strung up dangling mannequins dressed as Gotham's elite, spray-painting grotesque smiles over their faces and carving 'Losers!' into their chests.
Then came the real fun.
Joker strolled to a trembling banker and grabbed the man's tie, yanking him forward. "Congratulations! You've been selected as our very first contestant! Now, you do wanna play, don'tcha?"
The man whimpered. "P-please—"
Joker sighed dramatically before slamming the butt of his gun into the man's nose. "Wrong answer!"
Harley cackled, slapping her thigh. "Ya gotta want it, buddy!"
Joker shoved the man toward an old-fashioned game wheel they had set up in front of the vault. The wheel was crudely painted, the options ranging from 'Lose a Finger!' to 'Russian Roulette!' and, of course, 'Instant Death!'
Harley spun the wheel with a dramatic flourish. The pointer clicked… clicked… clicked…
'Lose a Finger!'
The man's scream was cut off by Joker's gleeful chuckle. "Oh-ho! Looks like you're gonna be down a digit, sport!"
Harley grabbed a butcher knife, yanked the man's hand onto a desk, and—CHOP!—his pinky finger went flying. Blood sprayed across the desk as he howled in agony, cradling his mutilated hand.
Harley spun the knife playfully. "Next time, maybe try for 'Get Out Free!'" She giggled. "Oh, wait! There ain't one!"
Joker threw his arm around her, kissing her temple. "You are just so darn adorable when you're committing felonies."
Harley batted her lashes. "I do it all for you, puddin'!"
Blowing Gotham a Kiss
With their fun little games prepped and the hostages properly traumatized, it was time for the grand opening act.
Joker strolled toward the massive steel vault, drumming his fingers against it. He turned to his goons. "Well? What are ya standin' around for? Light 'er up!"
The henchmen scrambled, planting C4 along the seams of the vault door. The red blinking lights cast eerie glows over their sweating faces as they worked, their hands slightly shaking—because even they weren't sure if they were walking out of this alive.
Harley grabbed the detonator, skipping back to Joker's side. She wiggled her fingers over the button teasingly. "Ready, baby?"
Joker grinned, twirling his cane. "Let's make some noise!"
Harley slammed her thumb down.
KA-BOOOOOOM!
The explosion ripped through the building like a monstrous roar. The vault door blew outward, smashing into desks and showering the room in molten debris. Smoke billowed into the air, and the fire alarms screamed in protest.
Outside, the blast shattered street windows. Car alarms wailed. Pedestrians screamed and scattered.
And, most importantly, the Bat-Signal flared to life over the Gotham skyline.
Joker dusted soot off his coat, adjusting his gold chains. He turned to the cameras, flashing his best game show host grin. "We're waiting, Batsy!"
Harley laughed, twirling her bat. "Think he'll bring friends?"
Joker hummed. "Oh, I hope so. The more, the bloodier!"
And with that, they turned back to their terrified audience, ready to begin the next round.
Joker spun in a slow circle, arms outstretched, taking in the beautiful chaos. Smoke curled toward the high ceilings, alarm lights flashed red, and the scent of gunpowder and fear thickened the air.
Harley was perched on a teller's desk, legs crossed, licking a lollipop she had plucked from a terrified woman's purse. Her high heel tapped the wood rhythmically as she watched the civilians with giddy anticipation.
Joker checked his nonexistent watch and sighed dramatically. "Well, well, well! It seems our special guest is taking his sweet time." He shot Harley a look. "You think ol' Batsy's scared?"
Harley giggled, biting down on her lollipop with a sharp crunch. "Maybe he's busy helpin' an old lady cross the street! Such a sweetheart."
The hostages whimpered.
Joker tsked and pointed his gun at one of the cowering tellers. "You, sir, look like a man who knows how to keep a schedule. Tell me, what's the penalty for a very late Bat?"
The man shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his face.
Joker pouted. "Wrong answer."
A gunshot rang out, and the man slumped over, blood pooling beneath him.
Joker spun on his heel, grinning. "I say, while we wait… let's up the ante!"
Fresh Meat.
As if on cue, the front doors burst open, and Joker's goons shoved in a dozen more screaming civilians—innocent bystanders plucked straight from the street.
A young woman in a business suit stumbled forward, sobbing. "Please, I—I have kids—"
Joker clapped his hands together like an overexcited talk show host. "Oh-ho-ho! MORE CONTESTANTS! And just in time! I was startin' to think we were runnin' low!"
Harley hopped off the desk, her heels clicking against the marble as she twirled her bat. She stopped beside a man in a mechanic's uniform, tilting her head. "Oh, puddin', look at this one! He's got grease under his nails!" She pouted playfully. "You know what that means…"
Joker smirked. "Blue-collar hero! Workin' hard, payin' bills, supportin' a family…" He leaned in close, grinning wildly. "Tell me, pal, do ya love your wife?"
The man trembled, barely able to nod.
Joker sighed. "Wrong again."
Harley swung her bat, cracking it against his temple. The man crumpled to the floor, blood trickling from the fresh dent in his skull.
She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "Oopsie! Looks like he died before we even started the game!"
Joker snapped his fingers at his goons. "Find me another mechanic! Preferably one with quicker reflexes!"
The hostages sobbed harder.
Game Night Continues
Joker grabbed the megaphone from one of his lackeys and climbed atop a desk. He cleared his throat before shouting, "WELCOME, NEW CONTESTANTS! We're just dyin' to play a few games with ya! The rules are simple—you lose, you die! You win, you might still die! But hey, that's life, ain't it?"
Harley threw confetti into the air. "Let's start round twooooo!"
The civilians whimpered.
Joker beamed. "And the best part?" He pointed toward the vault, where giant cameras had been set up, broadcasting the madness live across Gotham. He winked at the nearest lens. "Everyone at home gets to watch the fun!"
Outside, sirens wailed. Helicopters circled above.
And somewhere in Gotham, Batman was finally on his way.
The bank floor was a masterpiece of carnage. Blood splattered the pristine marble, pooling beneath bodies like macabre art. The overhead chandelier flickered, casting eerie shadows across the terror-stricken hostages.
Joker strolled through the scene like a proud game show host, humming a jaunty tune as he twirled a knife between his fingers. Beside him, Harley bounced on her heels, her pigtails swinging as she clapped with excitement.
"Alright, folks! Welcome to Round Three of Gotham's Deadliest Game Show!" Joker announced, his voice booming through the megaphone. "Our contestants have been dropping like flies—no surprises there! But hey, that's what makes it fun!"
A businessman was curled up in the corner, shaking uncontrollably. His suit was stained with someone else's blood. Joker crouched in front of him, tilting his head.
"You've been awfully quiet, pal. Tell me—who's waitin' for ya at home? A wife? A couple of rugrats?"
The man whimpered. "M-my son… he's watching…"
Joker grinned ear to ear. "Ohhh, even better! Let's check in on our live audience!"
Across Gotham, the broadcast aired in living rooms, bars, police stations.
In a cramped apartment on the east side, a teenage boy sat frozen on the couch, eyes wide with horror as he watched his father kneeling before the Clown Prince of Crime. His mother clutched his arm, sobbing hysterically. "Turn it off, turn it off!"
But he didn't. He couldn't.
Back at the bank, Joker waved at the camera. "Hey, kiddo! Hope you're payin' attention! Daddy's about to play his final round!"
Before the man could beg, before the boy could scream—
BANG.
The businessman slumped forward, a fresh bullet hole between his eyes.
Joker sighed, shaking his head. "He didn't even try to win. No sportsmanship these days!"
Harley pouted dramatically. "Shame! I was rootin' for him!" She spun on her heel, pointing her bat at a trembling woman. "You! C'mon, sugar, gimme some enthusiasm! Let's make this next round fun!"
Gotham in Panic
The city was in chaos. The streets were gridlocked with cars, horns blaring as people abandoned their vehicles to run home.
News stations interrupted regular programming with frantic reports. "The Joker and Harley Quinn have turned Gotham's largest bank into a slaughterhouse."
Phones rang off the hook at the police department.
"My husband's in there!"
"Do something!"
"My sister—oh God, she was supposed to be at work today—"
Inside the Batcave, Bruce Wayne stood motionless, fists clenched, eyes glued to the horror unfolding on the Batcomputer screen.
Alfred stood beside him, his usual composed demeanor cracking ever so slightly. "Master Wayne… they must be stopped. Immediately."
Bruce's jaw tightened. "I'm on my way."
Batman Arrives
Back at the bank, Joker tossed his gun to the side, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, Harl, I think we're down to our final few contestants! Let's make it memorable, shall we?"
But before Harley could reply—
BOOM.
The front doors exploded inward, the force sending debris flying. Smoke filled the air, followed by the unmistakable silhouette of Gotham's Dark Knight.
Batman strode through the haze, cape billowing behind him, his presence sucking the air from the room.
The hostages gasped in relief. The goons took a nervous step back.
Joker, however, lit up with pure joy.
"BATSY!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out. "And here I thought you'd never show! You're late, y'know! Bad form, pal!"
Harley smirked, swinging her bat over her shoulder. "Took ya long enough, B-man! We were gettin' bored!"
Batman didn't respond. His gaze flickered to the hostages—some dead, some barely hanging on, some still waiting for salvation.
And then, his fists clenched.
Joker chuckled, tilting his head. "Oooh, he's mad."
Harley licked her lips. "Fun."
And just like that—
Round Four began.
The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. The flashing lights of Joker's twisted game show reflected off the bloodstained marble floors. The remaining hostages huddled together, their whimpers barely audible over the blaring sirens outside.
Joker, standing on top of a teller's desk, spread his arms wide like a maestro conducting an orchestra of terror. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he faced Gotham's Dark Knight.
"Alright, Batsy! Here's the dealio!" Joker began, his grin stretching impossibly wide. "You got exactly—" he snapped his fingers, and the ding of a countdown clock echoed through the bank, "—ten minutes to make a choice! And oh, you're gonna love this one."
Behind him, a massive digital timer lit up on the wall. The glowing red numbers read:
10:00
9:59
9:58
Batman's jaw clenched.
"See, I'm feelin' generous tonight," Joker continued. "So I've set up two little objectives for ya! First! The hostages! A buncha terrified, screaming meat bags just waitin' for you to swoop in and save 'em!"
Joker gestured grandly to the back of the bank, where an entire section had been blocked off by an intricate maze of tripwires, electrified panels, and spinning saw blades suspended from the ceiling.
"But wait! There's more!" Joker practically sang. "The little secret you've been so desperate to keep from Gotham—" He tapped his temple, his eyes twinkling. "Yeahhh, we know all about Project G.O.T.H.A.M. And the file with all that juicy, scandalous info? It's in a different room, past its own set of obstacles."
9:30
Batman's eyes flickered to the far right, where a second path—equally treacherous—led to a security vault.
Joker clapped his hands together. "Sooooo! What's it gonna be, Bats? Save the poor, innocent nobodies? Or protect your dirty little secret?"
Harley twirled her knife between her fingers, licking her lips. "Oh, and just to keep things spicy—I'll be here with the hostages! Every sixty seconds that ticks by without ya doin' somethin'—"
She crouched down beside a trembling young woman, gripping her by the hair.
"—I start guttin' 'em like fish."
She dragged the knife across the woman's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
The woman sobbed hysterically.
Batman's eyes darkened.
Joker beamed. "Decisions, decisions! And hey—don't forget! You got ten minutes, big guy! Tick-tock!"
The timer glowed ominously.
9:00
Families at Home—Watching in Horror
Across Gotham, televisions flickered with nightmare fuel.
A mother gripped her chest, screaming at the screen as she saw her son sitting in the hostages' pile. "NO! NO, PLEASE—DO SOMETHING—"
A teenager sobbed uncontrollably, her face buried in her hands as she watched Joker laugh while Harley pressed the knife to a man's throat.
The mayor's wife sat in a luxury penthouse, a trembling hand over her mouth. "Dear God…"
Back in the Bank
8:30
Batman's mind raced. He couldn't save both.
The hostages were innocent lives—but Project G.O.T.H.A.M. was a monster in itself. If the files leaked, Gotham's faith in its leaders—its entire foundation—would crumble.
Joker watched Batman's internal struggle, his giddy anticipation borderline orgasmic. "C'mon, big guy! Whatcha gonna do? Gimme somethin' to work with here!"
8:00
Harley let out a dreamy sigh, twirling her pigtails. "Guess I better get started!"
With a gleeful giggle, she pressed the knife to the hostage's throat—
Batman moved.
7:59
The air was thick with dread, the scent of sweat and fear clinging to the hostages like a second skin. Their whimpers filled the space, a quiet symphony of despair beneath the mechanical tick, tick, tick of the countdown clock.
Batman's mind raced, his muscles coiled, ready to move.
But then—
"Whoopsie-daisy! Time's up for one of 'em!"
Harley snapped her fingers and yanked her hostage back by the hair, forcing the young woman to kneel before her.
7:30
The hostage screamed, but it was swallowed by the riot of color and sound around her.
Harley tilted her head, her blue and pink pigtails swaying as she studied the girl. Her blade—a sleek, polished hunting knife—glinted under the flickering bank lights.
"Awww, don't cry, sweetie," Harley cooed, cupping the woman's chin with her gloved hand. "You're about to be part of somethin' real special."
Joker leaned against the vault door, watching with sparkling amusement. "Ooooh, baby doll, whatcha got planned? Somethin' messy?"
Harley grinned up at him, her bright red lips splitting in pure, demented delight. "The messiest."
7:00
With one swift movement, Harley drove the knife deep into the woman's stomach.
The hostage let out a strangled gasp, her body jerking violently as Harley twisted the blade inside her. The knife sliced through muscle, through organ, through everything, sending a wet, gurgling sound echoing through the room.
6:50
Harley leaned in close, her lips brushing the hostage's ear, whispering in a mockingly sweet tone:
"Shhh, shhh, shhh—don't fight it, sugar. It's just a lil' tummy ache."
The girl's hands clawed weakly at Harley's arms, but her strength was fading fast. Blood pooled beneath her, thick and dark, staining Harley's boots.
Harley giggled. "Oooo, ya look so pretty in red!"
The hostage let out one final, shuddering breath—and then she was gone.
Harley pulled the knife out slowly, the sound of flesh parting filling the tense silence. Blood dripped from the blade in thick, syrupy strands, and she licked the tip, humming in satisfaction.
6:30
The hostages shrieked. A few vomited. Others collapsed in pure shock.
Joker laughed, throwing his head back. "Hooooo, now that's entertainment!"
Batman's fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked.
Harley pouted up at him. "What's the matter, Bats? Ain't ya gonna save the next one?"
She reached down, grabbing another quivering hostage, a middle-aged man this time.
The knife glided up his chest, the tip pressing just under his ribs.
"Oh boy, this one's gonna be reeeeaaaal fun."
6:00
Joker clapped his hands. "Better hurry, Batsy! You're runnin' outta time, and I reeeally wanna see what happens next!"
The countdown continued.
The blood kept spilling.
And Batman had to make a choice.
5:59
Batman moved.
His body became a shadow, slipping through the dimly lit corridors of the bank like a wraith. His boots barely made a sound against the marble floor, his breath steady, calculated.
He ignored the flashes of crimson on the walls—the remnants of Joker and Harley's previous victims. He ignored the echoes of Harley's laughter, that sweet, mocking giggle as she played with her food.
His target was clear.
The hostages.
The file.
And he was running out of time.
5:45
"Aww, you big softie!" Harley pouted, dragging her knife along the cheek of her current victim, a trembling man in his forties. She didn't press hard—just enough to split the skin and let thin rivers of red drip down his face.
"Ya picked the people over the dirty little secrets, huh? I thought we were pals, Batsy! I thought ya'd wanna keep Project G.O.T.H.A.M. a secret with us!"
Joker chuckled from where he stood atop a pile of fresh corpses, his black-gloved hands resting lazily on his golden cane. "Sentimental fool." His grin widened. "Well, then. Let's see how you handle my little obstacle course!"
5:30
Batman rounded a corner and nearly tripped a wire.
He stopped short, scanning—then saw the frag grenade hanging just above eye level, set to detonate at the slightest movement forward.
He didn't hesitate. Batarang out—slice. The wire snapped, the grenade dropped into his hand. He hurled it into the ceiling above, where it exploded harmlessly in a burst of fire and smoke.
5:15
The next hallway was worse.
He stepped forward, and the floor gave way beneath him.
Batman twisted mid-air, his grapple gun already in his hands. The line latched onto an overhead beam, jerking him back up before the spikes below could impale him.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Joker's voice echoed from hidden speakers, "ya don't know how long it took to set that one up, Batsy! I'm deeply offended you didn't fall for it. I even sharpened the spikes myself! Isn't that right, Harley-girl?"
Harley snorted, not looking up from where she was currently sliding her knife across her hostage's stomach, pressing just enough to let his intestines bulge without spilling them yet. "Mmhmm! He was so cute, all focused 'n stuff."
She squeezed the man's jaw, forcing his mouth open. "Say thank you, Bats! Say thank you to Mistah J for all his hard work!"
The hostage just sobbed.
Joker sighed, rolling his eyes. "Ugh. Rude."
Harley plunged the knife in.
The man let out a choked scream, his body convulsing violently as Harley ripped the blade sideways, tearing through his abdomen like butter.
The wet sound of flesh and organs spilling onto the floor was deafening.
4:45
Batman clenched his jaw, pushing forward.
The next trap—a corridor lined with motion-sensitive turrets.
He dove, rolled, flipped—the first wave of bullets missed him by inches. He snagged a smoke bomb from his belt and hurled it down the hall, watching the room fill with thick, black fog.
The turrets fired blindly.
Batman used the distraction to dash forward, weaving through the chaos like a specter.
He reached the other end just as the next trap activated.
4:30
The lights flickered.
The walls shifted.
Batman froze as the maze changed.
Laughter echoed from all sides.
Joker's voice purred through the speakers. "Oooh, this is gettin' exciting! C'mon, Batsy, just a little more! The Birdies are watching from home, the whole city's waiting! Can you do it? Can you save them all?"
Harley's voice followed, mocking: "Tick-tock, big boy. Four minutes 'til I start guttin' the next one!"
Batman moved.
Faster.
Harder.
No mistakes.
Time was running out.
3:59
Batman burst into the hostage room, shrouded in smoke and blood-slicked floors. The air reeked—iron-heavy with death.
Eight survivors huddled together, shaking, eyes blown wide with terror. The remains of their fellow captives were strewn across the floor, their guts spilling like grotesque decorations for the Joker and Harley Horror Show.
He didn't hesitate.
"Move!" His voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.
One by one, he pulled them up, ushering them toward the emergency exit.
Above him, the intercom crackled.
Joker sighed dramatically. "Awww, you're ruinin' my fun, Bats! I worked so hard on this game, and you're just… takin' all my players away! That's not very sportsmanlike!"
Batman ignored him.
He led the last hostage out the door, securing them just as gunfire rang out from Joker's men at the back entrance.
They wouldn't make it far.
The GCPD was closing in. The entire city was watching. And now—now Batman had one last job.
He turned back toward the smoke-filled battlefield.
Joker was getting the files.
And Harley…
She was waiting for him.
2:59
Harley stood in the center of the blood-soaked lobby, twirling a fresh knife between her fingers, the blade slick with the last man she'd gutted.
She grinned when she saw Batman step through the smoke.
"Ohhh, Batsy. Just you 'n me now, huh?" She pouted, dragging her blade down her thigh. "Ain't that romantic?"
Batman didn't answer.
There was something different.
Her stance. The way she shifted her weight before she attacked. The slight hesitation between movements.
He didn't clock it immediately.
Because she attacked hard.
Harley lunged, swinging for his throat, fast, precise, wild. Batman dodged, twisted, countered. She rolled over his back, landed on her feet, flipped, and came at him again.
They fought like they always did. But something was off.
She was aggressive, yes—but not reckless.
She wasn't throwing herself at him full-force.
She was protecting something.
But in the moment, Batman didn't have time to think.
He threw a punch. Harley dodged.
She swung her bat. He caught it.
They locked eyes—then she smirked.
"Bye-bye, Batsy."
Something clicked at his feet.
The blinding bomb exploded.
White-hot light engulfed his vision.
Batman staggered back, instincts screaming, hands flying to shield his eyes as everything burned.
He heard Harley's laugh, high and victorious.
Then—
Rotor blades.
1:00
Joker was already in the helicopter when Harley jumped in, laughing breathlessly, gripping the edge of the doorframe as Jonny Frost pulled them up.
Joker looked up from the Project G.O.T.H.A.M. files, grinning wide.
"And here she is! My beautiful, devious little devil."
Harley threw her arms around his neck, giggling as she planted a bloody kiss on his cheek.
"We did it, Puddin'! We made Batsy look stupid on live TV!"
Joker threw his head back, laughing as Gotham shrank below them, sirens screaming in the distance.
"Oh, Babygirl, we ain't done yet. This is just the beginning."
She grinned, eyes glinting with mischief.
And as Gotham burned beneath them, as Batman blinked through the blinding white, trying to piece together what felt so wrong about that fight…
Harley placed a hand over her stomach, her smile soft for just a second.
Then she turned to Joker, nuzzling into him as the helicopter disappeared into the night.