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“Y’know, I’m surprised you didn’t want to move into the mansion in town,” Harley says, sprawled over one of Helena’s couches. “Everyone calls it by your last name, anyway.”
Helena shrugs awkwardly, running a finger round the rim of her glass. “It’s too… big.”
“Hey, no judgment. Penthouse suite, still very swanky.”
Harley had read once that it was important for young girls to have a multitude of positive female role models in their life. She’s still not sure exactly how old Cassie is, but it’s probably good for her anyway, and she likes the Birds all right, so they swing by to say hi every now and again. Dinah’s with her now, teaching her how best to throw punches. Renee’s polishing her guns. Helena’s sitting in an armchair a little stiffly, clearly trying to remember how to relax around one extra person. Harley assumes that she’s figured out how to unwind more around the Birds but two extra people throw her off.
“So you all live here now, huh?”
Renee peers at one of her guns. “It’s more convenient for us all to be in the same space in case something happens.”
Dinah feints for Cassie. “Nah, more like this, see?” She glances at Harley. “Also Helena’s got the biggest TV I’ve ever seen. I had to talk her into buying it. Told her Women’s MMA would look really good on it.”
Helena grins, straightening in her seat a little. “It does.”
“Alright, kid, let’s take a break.” Dinah holds up her hand for Cassie to high five. “Good job. Kickass.” She calmly moves Harley’s legs to sit down on the couch while Cassie heads for the kitchen to grab Gatorade. “You robbed any place fun lately?”
Harley sniffs. “I’m not a common criminal.” She grins. “So I robbed a Tiffany’s, like an exceptional criminal. Real classy, y’know?” She taps her earrings, golden and ropey with little diamonds on them. “Cass got herself a bracelet. All blue and gold. I tell you, she’s got some real taste, that kid.”
Renee frowns. “You shouldn’t rob a Tiffany’s.”
Harley snorts. “Oh yeah, Mr. Tiffany’s sure gonna struggle to feed his family cause I hit one of his small businesses, I’m practically bleedin’ for the guy. Besides, I had the permission of a cop, that’s practically legal.”
“How?
“Well, he was on the take.” Renee’s glare deepens. “Relax, he’s a Catholic! His guilt comes through just by inherently bein’ a person, he can just pick a saint to pray to and his sins are clean! Not the winnin' team, obviously, but as a grifter, I can respect the long con. You don’t get to judge me anyway, Montoya, what you’re doin’ ain’t exactly legal, neither.”
“I don’t think that’s how Catholicism works,” Helena says.
Dinah grins. “I cannot picture you in a convent.”
“No, neither could the nuns, so they sent me back to my dad after I got into some trouble for wallopin’ a nun, but in fairness, I don’t like gettin’ thwacked with rulers. Which, y’know, I never knew why he dropped me off there in the first place, considerin’ we was Jewish? Don’t matter, I guess, I’m the most knowledgeable ‘bout Catholicism Jewish lady I ever knew.”
“If you think that’s how praying to saints works,” Dinah tells her. “That’s probably not actually the case.”
“Whoaaaa!” Cassie skids into the living room, Gatorade in hand, waving her phone. “Look at this!”
Everyone crowds around her phone to see a livestream playing. It looks like it’s Mad Hatter, holding up a ticking pocket watch in one hand and a gun in the other pressed up to the head of-
Oh no.
“Batman!” Hatter cries, in that way that he thinks is very nonsensical and ominous but ultimately just makes him sound like a tool, looking far too gleeful about having Bruce tied to a chair and gagged. “You have until midnight to surrender your cowl on live television, or billionaire Bruce Wayne drops a couple of hat sizes! What’s it to be, old boy?”
“Ohhhhhh boy,” Harley murmurs.
“Isn’t he the guy you named your hyena after?” Cassie asks.
“Yeah.”
“Huh.” Dinah leans back and puts her feet up on the table. “Sucks to be him.”
“Seemed all right, for a dipshit,” Renee says, checking her guns again. “Donated a lot of money to charity. Not sure if that excuses all the partying, but-“
“His form must’ve been sloppy if he got caught by a guy with a tag on the outside of his hat.” Helena looks back down at her wine, clearly not sure what else to contribute to this conversation. Makes sense. She hasn’t been around Gotham very long, she’s probably not that familiar with the Wayne legacy and all that. “Should’ve been faster on the draw.”
“Right,” Harley says. “So. Here’s an idea. What if… we go and save him?
Everyone looks up to stare at her.
“What?” Dinah asks.
“Why?” Cassie asks.
“No,” Renee and Helena say at once.
“Well.” Harley desperately tries to find a reason to rescue Bruce that doesn’t involve her saying that he’s Batman and therefore can’t actually deliver his cowl to Hatter if he’s all tied to a chair and whatnot. “Well, what if Batman can’t save him?”
Dinah snorts. “Listen, Hatter’s pretty good for where he’s at on the food chain, but there’s no fucking way that guy’s taking down Batman, alright, he might get a couple scratches on him, but not much else.”
“Batman’s been honing in on our turf.” Renee puts her guns down. “I really don’t care if Hatter takes him down.”
“What, so you’re good with collateral now? He’s got kids, y’know? At least… two?” She can’t remember how many kids Brucie’s got these days. He picks ‘em up like dust bunnies. Probably not any dust bunnies in Wayne Manor, though. Alfred seems like he’d keep a tight ship. “And technically it was his turf first, y’know.”
Renee pauses. “That is true. The kids and collateral thing, I don’t care about whose turf it was first, it’s our turf now.”
“And you!” Harley spins to Helena. “Hatter’s got goons. You like shootin’ goons, don’t you?”
Helena perks up slightly. “And stabbing.”
“Right, and stabbin’! And you-“ Harley turns to Dinah and mentally flails a little bit. “You don’t like kids gettin’ screwed, too, which Brucie’s kids would be, and, and, uh, I dunno, you like bein’ included?”
“Hm.”
“Look.” Harley squares her shoulders. “I’m goin’. And the rest of you can stay here, or you can join me, and have some fun in kickin’ Hatter’s ass, unless you’re Cassie, in which case you’re stayin’ here, no kids allowed, sorry, we’ll bring you back some food, text us what you want-“
“Hey,” Cassie objects, standing up. “No fair, I wanna-“
Harley ignores her. “Your call.”
Harley walks out of the apartment. After a few moments, she hears three groans, and three more pairs of footsteps. She smiles.
“For the record,” Dinah says as they pull up to the abandoned warehouse Harley just knows Hatter’s using, because Hatter is extremely predictable. “I want my fucking car back.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” Harley gets out of the car. “Gimme a sec, I’ll get us some weapons.”
Helena gestures to herself, covered in various weapons she’s strapped to her person, and Renee, who has more guns than Harley assumes is legal. “We’re good.”
“Dinah ain’t, though, and neither am I.” Harley opens up the trunk to see Cassie, squirreled away in there, look up at her.
“Okay,” she says. “Before you start-“
Harley calmly closes the trunk door.
“What, no weapons?” Dinah asks.
“Nope. All out. Sorry.”
“Is that pounding?” Renee demands, pointing at the trunk as Cassie starts hollering and hitting the car.”
“I dunno. I can’t hear-“ Helena readies her crossbow at the trunk, looking suspicious, and Harley abruptly changes tack. “It’s Cassie! It’s Cassie, it’s fine!”
“Jesus fucknuts Christ, Harley-“ Renee throws the trunk door open and helps Cassie out of the trunk. “Were you just gonna leave her in there?”
“She can breathe! And that way she wouldn’t get involved in all this!” Renee glares. Harley ignores it. “Listen, we were pretty clear. You gotta stay here.”
“Outside?” Cassie gives them a far too innocent look. “On my own? Where anyone could come and get me?”
The four of them look at each other.
“Goddammit,” Dinah mutters. “You’re a pain in the ass, kid.”
Harley rummages around in the back of the trunk and pulls out her big mallet. She’s repainted it with glitter recently. Very fun. “Alright, kid, you take this and you stick near Helena, and any time you see a guy comin’ for you, you whack him in the gut, and then when he’s winded, you let Helena take care of it.”
“And you don’t look,” Helena adds. “Or, uh.” She looks at Renee and Dinah pleadingly.
“Or Helena never teaches you how to use her crossbow like you’ve been asking,” Dinah says quickly. Helena, clearly relieved, nods.
“Fine,” Cassie mutters.
“Outstandin’.” Harley rummages some more. “Also, kid, don’t hide in trunks where the weapons are, what’s the matter with you?”
All in all, it’s pretty fun.
Crashing Hatter’s party would have been worth it just to see his face. He looks comically stunned, which gives Dinah a chance to kick in the camera so the stream cuts out, for Helena to crossbow one of his goons, for Renee to shield Cassie from another gun and shoot the guy in the kneecaps, and for Harley to deliver a swift kick to Hatter’s nards. She neatly cuts Bruce’s restraints, and he massages his wrists.
“Hiya, Brucie!” she says cheerfully. “You look like you were all dressed up for somethin’ special.”
Bruce shrugs, giving her that charming, effortless smile he hands out when he’s pretending to be a billionaire playboy. “Just a charity gala. Nothing big.”
She holds out one of her metal baseball bats to him. “Think you can handle yourself if I give you this? In defense and all?”
Bruce gives it a look so wide-eyed Harley wants to give him an Oscar. “Man. I dunno. I’m not so great with physical violence.”
“Uh-huh.” She pats his head, and she gets an eyebrow that’s maybe a little less charming and effortless than he was before. “Well, desperate times and all. Be careful with that one, will you, it’s my favorite. I’ve named it Diana.”
Bruce spends most of the time cowering away from the action, which is so hilarious Harley manages to snap a covert pic that she’s going to send to Dickie later. Dickie’s the kid she’s on the best terms with. It’s only towards the end of the fight, as Renee’s trussing up Hatter to leave outside with a note for the police, that a goon comes out of nowhere swinging a crowbar and screaming, that Bruce delivers a solid thwack to the guy’s stomach and sends him to the ground.
“Nice shot, Brucie!” Harley crows.
Bruce shrugs, the picture of modesty that manages to be both humble and vaguely smug, something that rich people only can acquire. “I’ve played a little ball in my day.”
“Don’t you own a ball team?”
“Huh.” Bruce considers it, and Harley recognizes the look of genuine contemplation on his face. “Maybe I do.”
“Since when do you know Bruce Wayne?” Dinah demands, coming up to meet Harley.
“Oh, Brucie and I go way back. We went to school together! Before he dropped out and I got my degree and he didn’t.” Harley pinches his cheek, which he allows for .5 seconds before he leans away from her.
“Harley named her hyena after you,” Cassie says, coming up to meet him.
“You know, I think that’s a first.” He gives Cassie a smile so real that Harley thinks later she’s gonna have to warn him about how she’ll break his legs if he tries to get Cassie adoption papers. “Nice swinging.”
Cassie grins. “Thanks, man.”
“Can I have my wallet back?”
“…what wallet?”
Renee lightly checks Cassie with her shoulder as she and Helena approach them. “Give the man back his wallet.”
“You can keep the watch.”
Cassie brightens, and hands over the wallet. “Pretty nice watch.”
“It’s just Cartier. A little watch for evening galas, I have a few.”
Renee pulls a vaguely disgusted face, and Harley tries not to laugh knowing that internally, Bruce is making the same face.
“I can’t thank you enough for coming in and saving me like this.” Bruce looks earnest. Harley can’t stifle the grin at that. “I’m not very good in tense situations.”
“It’s cause you’re soft, probably,” Helena tells him.
Bruce’s lips twitch. “Certainly, compared with you all. Can’t I compensate you for your work tonight?”
“I’ve got money.”
“We don’t,” Dinah says.
“Cough up,” Renee agrees.
“Consider it done. It’ll be in your bank accounts by morning.”
Harley claps him on the shoulder. “I’ll just take a jail out of free card, Brucie.”
“What would you need a get out of jail free card for from Wayne for?” Helena asks.
“Who knows? Could be anything.” She knows Bruce knows she means a literal get out of jail free card, anyway. It’s in the look he shot her when nobody was looking. “Aw, you look all ruffled like you would the night before exams.”
Bruce’s eyes narrow, clearly not thrilled with the idea of anyone describing him as ruffled.
“You know,” he says, conversationally. “Those earrings and those pearls look kinda familiar. Wasn’t a Tiffany’s held up in Gotham a few nights ago?”
Dinah laughs. “Why do you keep track of what places have been burgled?”
“I wanted to buy a present for a certain female… acquaintance.” Bruce adjusts his cuffs. “Really put a cramp in my day. I had to get Alfred to drive me to the Tiffany’s that was two other blocks away.”
The other four have the face one pulls around oblivious rich people being obliviously assholes. Harley just plays with her three row pearls a little.
“Dunno what you’re insinuatin’ there,” she tells him. “I can afford to buy some pretty nice things for myself. I’m real classy.”
“Yes,” Bruce says, maybe a little too dry for a billionaire playboy. “A very glittery classy lady.”
“You and glitter.” Harley wiggles the fringe hanging off her shirt straps, shifting her hips a little so the fringe on her pink bodysuit wiggles, too. She turns back to Cassie, who’s not glittery, but wearing some fun colors with her jeans nonetheless. “He’s dingin’ our sweet style, Cass.”
“I’m not wearing any glitter.”
“You could, though, someday.” She turns to Bruce. “You’re all blacks and grays, ain’t you, Brucie?”
Bruce sighs wearily. “I’ve told you before not to call me that, but I guess so, yes.”
“Terrific.” Harley levels her glitter cannon high in the air above Bruce and fires, letting the glitter rain down on him. “Now you look like me! It’s a real compliment, I tell you, everyone’s gonna tell you now how good you look.”
Bruce glares at her, a look somewhat mitigated by the glitter stuck in his hair.
“This is going to get,” he tells Harley. “In all my clothes.”
Harley grins, knowing full well exactly what clothes he’s referring to. “Now we’re even!” she says brightly, turning towards the door. “Come on, girls, I’m feeling pizza? Who else wants pizza?”
“Aren’t you gonna give me a ride?” Bruce calls to them as they walk away.
“Just call Alfred, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled!” She gives him a wave without looking at him. “Bye, Brucie! Tell Alfred and Dickie I say hello!”
Bruce doesn’t answer, and Harley wonders if he’s done that thing where he disappears into the shadows to brood. The idea of him doing it covered in glitter is, in her opinion, delightful.