h-quinzcl-blog

[h-quinzcl-blog]

hauntedknight:

Mister Hammer got off the floor and approached Batman, the vigilante pushing himself onto a sitting position against the wall as the criminal stood over him. “This is what all are afraid of?” he said with a heavy Russian accent, laughing soon after. “You are nothing.” He easily raised the large hammer in his hand over his shoulder, about to bring it down on Batman’s head, the bat swiftly sliding through the man’s legs and out of the way. The hammer broke through the floor, the vigilante guessing it made it through to the ceiling below by the sound and splinters flying in every direction, the criminal struggling to free it.

Batman stood and pressed his taser brass knuckles against Mister Hammer’s bare back, the Russian man trying to fight through it but unable to withstand the amount of electricity coursing through his body for too long. He dropped to the ground, twitching for a few seconds before finally falling unconscious, the Dark Knight stepping back while attempting to control his breathing. The fight wasn’t over however, more enemies possibly lurking in other parts of the building, or even in that exact room…

The moment Batman felt the contact, he turned, throwing an elbow towards the other’s face before reaching for the madman’s throat. He threw him against the nearest wall, pressing his forearm onto Joker’s throat. “The games are over,” he growled, his voice masked by the modulator of his cowl. “Where is she?”

@h-quinzcl & @chaosadvocate

Harleen was terrified. She’d fallen unconscious on the street after being tackled by the hyena, and had woken up chained to the ceiling in Joker’s hideout, somewhere she definitely did not want to be. She had just come around when the Joker had walked in, brandishing a scalpel. Tears sprang to her eyes as he spoke, he was going to torture her back into insanity and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She bit her lip, determined not to beg no matter what he did to her. She would hold off as long as she possibly could before breaking, and try to buy someone time to notice her absence and notify the police. Maybe, just maybe, someone would come for her.

She heard the chaos elsewhere in the hideout just after the Joker, and her heart leaped into her throat. She hadn’t dared hope that anyone would come for her this soon, but it seemed someone out there was smiling on her. When Joker left the room, she set to work, testing the strength of her shackles. They wouldn’t budge, either from her wrists or their anchoring on the ceiling. Figured. Still, her former lover had never managed to outsmart the Batman, and if it was truly he who was there, she was as good as rescued.

A horrible thought occurred to her then. What if Batman didn’t know he had her, had only come to take in the Joker? She could starve to death before she was found if no one came to unlock her shackles. It was an absurd thought--he’s Batman, of course he knows, he knows everything--but she wasn’t taking any chances.

“Help!” she shouted, trying to yell as loud as she possibly could. “Please, help!”

@chaosadvocate​ & @hauntedknight​ 

Hello Darkness My Old Friend // Batman and Joker

[h-quinzcl-blog]

hauntedknight:

Batman remained silent, but the news of the Strike Force not having contacted Harleen or even knowing who she was were good news. It meant she wouldn’t be dragged into the mess the Accords created, that she wouldn’t have to loose the life she had worked so hard to create in New York, that the Panel wouldn’t have one more person to use or manipulate. “It’s best you continue to be cautious,” he warned. “You can’t depend on luck.” He paused, inspecting their surroundings. “Have you thought about leaving New York?”

“Only all the time,” she responded. In addition to the Strike Force, she had the Joker to worry about, and getting further away from him sounded better and better with every passing day. “But I’m still trying to save up. Moving is expensive,” she pointed out. “And I don’t make much as a sales clerk at a boutique.”

[h-quinzcl-blog]

akagoddammit:

She wanted a drink, but she’d manage to drain all the bottles in the house over the night. She’d stayed up late, turning over Harleen’s story in her head, looking up arrest records on this ‘Joker’ asshole – apparently goddamn Batman was ten kinds of tangled up in them. “Not worried about them knowing my name,” she murmured, tapping her injured hand against her leg. The bulky towel wrapped around it cushioned the taps. “I’ve got ways to deal with it,” she said, shaking her head and glancing over at Harleen.

The other woman wore her emotions freely – shuddering and stiffening like she just couldn’t help it. Jessica was the same way, knew what it was like to feel things so viscerally you couldn’t help but react physically. She almost regretted asking the question, but only almost.

She stayed silent while Harleen spoke, listening intently, keeping her gaze steady the entire time. It was a goddamn wild story, and far too familiar. Charming. Genteel. Made me think he loved me, that I loved him. Those words resonated, echoed around Jessica’s skull painfully, and the phrase twisted me into his puppet wrapped around what was left of her heart and squeezed. She felt herself growing tenser, muscles tightening, until she felt like was a spring coiled too tightly, or like a bomb about to go off.  And then Harleen said mind-rape and Jessica couldn’t take it anymore. She bolted from the couch, pushing back too hard, she felt it rock back against the wall, sending little bits of dust flying into the air. 

“Sorry,” she muttered, stalking to her desk. She ripped open a drawer, hoped Harleen couldn’t see how her hands were shaking – hell, how all of her was trembling. She searched for a forgotten bottle, sometimes she kept one tucked away for emergencies, but it was hard with the towel around her hand. Deciding she didn’t care about the goddamn cut anymore, she loosened the knot with her teeth and tossed the towel aside, wincing as fibers stuck to the cut. “That you went through that shit, I mean,” she said, forcing herself to breathe, to sound like a goddamn human being. “That wasn’t – not your fault. You didn’t ask for that,” she murmured. “Goddammit,” she hissed, slamming the drawer shut when her search proved fruitless. She pressed both hands against the top of her desk, letting her head hang down for a moment, hair falling over her face. 

“That’s fucked up,” she said after a long moment. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. But not that. Not something so close, so similar to what she’d been through. Assholes didn’t need powers to take control of someone’s life, to use them, rip their minds apart, and toss them aside like trash. She’d always known that, but seeing it, hearing it, that was different. Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane. But the street names didn’t help, didn’t stop her hands shaking, no matter how hard she gripped the edge of her desk. She forced herself to breathe again, tried to swallow down the panic, but her throat was tight. “We’ll get those dead-end identities set up. Start planning, we’ll – Christ, we’ll do something,” she muttered, straightening up and running a hand through her hair. “But first I need a goddamn drink. And so do you,” she said, walking into her kitchen. Maybe there was some whiskey hidden in the cupboards there. Christ, even a half-empty bottle would be a welcome sight at this point.

Harleen blanched as Jessica bolted from the couch, sending her reeling back with the furniture she sat on. She’d expected anger, or disgust, or maybe even sympathy from the other woman, but not this level of reaction. She wanted to go to Jessica’s side, to ask what was wrong, to help the other woman. But she sensed that her sympathy would be unwelcome--Jessica was the type of woman used to dealing with things on her own, and Harleen didn’t want to pry.

She didn’t speak as Jessica removed the makeshift bandage from her wound, though she wanted to tell the other woman that it wasn’t a good idea. She listened as the brunette swore, expressed sympathy for what Harleen had been through, and swore some more. It wasn’t until Jessica’s head drooped, hair falling in front of her face, that Harleen moved. She stood up and walked over the the other woman, careful to keep some distance. Jessica’s hands were shaking so badly Harleen could see it from a foot away despite the other’s grip on the table. Before she could ask if Jessica was okay, however, the other woman had stood up straight and made for the kitchen, talking about their plans and her need for a drink. Clearly, Jessica had an alcohol dependancy, and that was something Harleen worried about, but not as much as she did the reaction to her story. Had Jessica been through something similar? Harleen didn’t know, and wasn’t about to ask. It was none of her business, after all.

“A drink sounds good,” she answered, still wrung out from telling her story. She followed Jessica into the kitchen, hovering in the doorway as the brunette searched the cabinets. “Are...are you okay?” she asked after a moment, voice quiet. She didn’t want to upset her new friend any further, and wanted to make sure that she was going to be okay.

[h-quinzcl-blog]

tricksareforvids:

               He’s not all about that traditional art life, but he can appreciate when someone’s good at something. And this feels like one of those cases, given what was beginning to take shape on Harleen’s canvas. Looked pretty good, and he’s already getting a little distracted by the effective use of contrast between the vibrant colors by the time his ‘popular’ wine arrives– white, as it turns out.  

                       It’s to his lips within the next few seconds, a hefty gulp taken in as he listens to his new friend explain what she’s up to. Axel doesn’t care to tone down the genuine surprise in his features as she details her intentions– she’d been right to guess, it’s totally not what he’d been expecting. And something he’d never be caught dead drawing himself. But he sees the opportunity for humour, and with it, at last an idea. 

               “Huh.  Well I know what I’m drawing now.”

                               He wanders back to his canvas, finally taking a seat and picking up the brush. Glancing across to Harleen with a tongue-in-cheek smirk alive in his expression. 

               “It’s gonna be a big fuck-off dragon, with huge teeth and claws and explosions in the background. It’s also gonna be holding a crate of beer.” He declares. 

                          Adding after a brief pause, “And a Gatling gun.” 

Harleen painted brushstroke after brushstroke on he canvas, smiling as she sipped her wine peacefully. At Axel’s comment about what he was painting, she nearly shot wine out of her nose. Composing herself, she grinned at him. “That sounds....creative,” she laughed. “I can’t wait to see it.”

She waved for another glass of wine as she finished her first, continuing to add colors to the canvas. Something about this felt right, being out with a friend and creating something happy, something wholesome. She glanced over at Axel’s canvas, grinning as the dragon he spoke of began to take shape. Turning her attention back to her own painting, she added a silvery tint to the unicorn’s mane.

“Thank you, by the way,” she said softly, not looking at Axel but speaking to him all the same. “For getting me to get out of my own head for a while.”

[h-quinzcl-blog]

robberofatms:

Len nodded as she said out loud what he was thinking. “I don’t disagree with that, sure.” He could only shrug again in answer, logic from people in the government confused him, it just made no sense sometimes. Most of the time. “I think more of the lines of that they’re idiots.” He drawled out, “And that they’re acting in panic. And no one makes good choices in desperation.”

“That’s a blunt way of putting it, but I don’t disagree,” Harleen admitted. “Fear leads to anger, and all that.” She sighed and looked around them, as if searching for answers that were nowhere to be found. “It’s tragic, really, and it’s putting people in danger. I can’t stand it.”

[h-quinzcl-blog]

hauntedknight:

Batman waited for Harleen to move, allowing her to make some space between them and surveying the area before following, his steps barely audible against the concrete. The vigilante listened to blonde as she spoke, her question unsurprising–after the night they had weeks before, it was a valid concern. “They won’t be a problem,” he answered, the confidence in his electronically altered voice due to the fact he’d set the surveillance cameras of the area on loop (though if something were to happen, the batcomputer would notify him immediately). “Have they contacted you since the other night?”

“No, I don’t think they know who I am,” she responded quietly, still glancing around nervously as she made her way toward her apartment building. “I also don’t think they realized I went to help you--they were pretty distracted by your evasion techniques. But I’ve been careful--this is the first time I’ve been out after dark in weeks.” It was true--she’d arranged her schedule at work to be on the opening shift since the incident. But someone had called in today, and she’d had to close, putting her getting off after dark.

[h-quinzcl-blog]

tricksareforvids:

          Okay, so, literally a pair of canvases. Little smaller than he was expecting, especially when you were, y’know, used to entire walls to splash color on and all. But whatever. Free booze, free fun, Totally-Not-Harley-Quinn for company; couldn’t get better, right?

                Tilting over the paint selection, he does gain an exceptionally satisfied countenance seeing that every color beneath the sun was represented here. Reaching Rainbow Raider-levels of spectrum here, not bad, not bad. He opted to stand rather than seat himself on the chair provided, putting a thoughtful thumb to his upper lip as he regarded the empty canvas in front of him. 

                                  “Uhh. Whatever’s popular for me.”

               Axel places his ‘order’ with a wink to the staffmember. Wasn’t exactly a wine person, so best to just go with whatever was the flow here. Glancing to the front of the room at the TV screen, the teen immediately decided that whatever he was gonna paint, it wasn’t going to be that. 

                                “What’re ya gonna draw?”  He shoots the question along to Harleen without hesitation or second thought..

Harleen, for her part, had already started painting as soon as she’d placed her drink order. Splashes of color littered the canvas as she began her work. She lost herself in the painting, barely noticing when the waitress brought their wine, absentmindedly taking a sip and continuing her work. She’d always liked painting, it was an escape from the real world. She really should have gotten around to doing this sooner, it was such a relaxing thing...

At Axel’s question, she looked at him, broken from her almost-trance. “It’s gonna be a fantasy scene,” she responded. “A unicorn in a shady grove, with a rainbow in the background.” She blushed slightly at the admission that she was painting something so girly--she figured he’d expected her to paint something with lots of red and black, given her former identity--but aside from the red in the rainbow, she intended to use those colors not at all. It was a purposeful decision, and one she was proud of, in a small way.

[h-quinzcl-blog]

robberofatms:

“Mind control?” Len shrugged, though if Earth’s greatest and mightiest heroes could be controlled like that, there just wasn’t a chance for anyone, not even the government. He wondered if Kilgrave could manage that, that was a chilling thought. “It’s not about the odds to them, it’s that it could happen and that’s enough for the government to be scared.”

“If someone could mind control the entirety of the Justice League and the Avengers, we’re screwed anyway,” Harleen pointed out, unaware that he was thinking along the same lines. “And if the government is that afraid of them, what does that say about the government? That they’re alienating their biggest allies?”

[h-quinzcl-blog]

jus-reflectin:

“Right!” said Ev, gesturing emphatically in agreement. “Yer more on the ball about this than the whole government, Amanda!” He sighed, looking around at the busy street, people walking past wreckage from the New York attacks as if it were a shop window. “Ah get it, in a way… stuff went out of control and people got scart. But then they didn’t so much bite the hand that feeds them as kick the bleddy demigod-tier metahumans that’d shelter ‘em frum the werst of it… and then there’s the capes who signed up.” He cast his eyes to the ground, thinking of Barry Allen. “The wuns who think they’re doin’ good, but… a cape under a government jackboot isnae a hero anymore, they’re a weapon, ready for deployment at the State’s request…” he reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Terns mah stomach, so it does.”

He was about to light up, when he glanced at Amanda. “Oh, sowrry, d’you mind if I–”

Harleen nodded as Ev went on his rant. She agreed with every word, even if she had to struggle to understand his accent at times. “Not at all,” she gestured for him to continues lighting his cigarette. “I completely agree. I mean, what are they going to do, lock up Superman? I mean, there are some--Batman, Iron Man if he hadn’t already signed--who rely on gadgets for their “powers”, but the Strike Forces are never gonna be able to arrest Supes, or Scarlet Witch, or any of them who don’t want to be taken in. Hell, even Batman would give them a run for their money, powers or no.” She scowled at the thought of the task forces. The very idea made her sick.

[h-quinzcl-blog]

chaosadvocate:

He should had never turned his back on Harleen. The sound of Gus’ body thumping on the ground as he cried out in pain took hostage of the evil clown’s attention. The Joker turned, crazed gaze on the fleeing female. Of course she was slippery–after all, he made her. “Tsk tsk,” the Joker mouthed as he watched her run and cry out for help. “This is just plain shameful,” the villain mumbled as anger began to boil within him. His hyena remain beside him, tense, eyes also on Harley. “Go get mommy.”

At the Joker’s command, Lou sprinted away, directly towards Harleen. The Joker did not move, instead he stared out at the scene. His gaze locked with Harley’s as she glanced back, and the Joker grinned widely after blowing her a kiss. Lou was already at her heels, and within seconds, it leaped up at her. At 200 pounds, the two hyenas the psychotic owned, were larger than common hyenas– and Lou looked to tackle her down and hold his former master for the Joker.

The Clown Prince of Crime was now making his way towards the pair, gun back in his hand. “C'mon, Puddin’,” he screamed at Harleen. “Enough with the playing hard to get,” he growled lowly as he closed in. “Or should I break those pretty ankles of yours?” the Joker asked as he pressed his foot down into her bloodied ankle.

Harleen ran, and when she heard Lou close in she ran faster. Still, she was no match in speed for a hyena, and was soon tackled to the ground. Struggling, she flipped over as the creature licked her, greeting her like an old friend. “C’mon, Lou, Mommy needs to go now,” she begged, but it was too late. The Joker had caught up with her.

“Please, no,” she whispered as he threatened her, looking around for any means of escape. None presented themselves, and she began to lose hope that she would manage to free herself from his grasp. I won’t let him turn me back into a monster, she thought fiercely to herself. I’ll die before that happens. She knew it was likely to be a painful, torturous ordeal, and she was resigned to this fate. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to go limp, abandoning all hope of gettnig out of this alive.

Wreak Havoc [Open]

[h-quinzcl-blog]

tricksareforvids:

      “It’s a deal!” Axel exclaims playfully, a laugh tucked into his undertone as he walks alongside her. Thrilled to see the genuine uptick in Harleen’s mood from all that; that smile had been as real as the sheer cool factor of this meeting even having happened in the first place. 

               He finds himself actually getting a little curious– and therefore excited– about what’s coming up as they make their way, and once they arrive it’s with an especial little smile that he nods to Harleen as he passes through the doorway.   “Don’t mind if I do, ma’am.” 

                         The boy plays along effortlessly as he goes.

Harleen followed him inside and paid the woman at the counter the $20 plus tax for the two of them, and they were led to a pair of canvases. Each easel was equipped with paint of every color Harleen could think of, brushes, and cups of water for rinsing them. She sat down at one, gesturing for Axel to take the other. An employee approached them then. “If you need any paint refills, or drink refills, just let one of us know,” she began. “You can paint along with what the video--” she indicated a TV at the front of the room that was showing step-by-step instructions for painting a hilly landscape-- “or you can do your own thing. What can I get you to drink?”

Harleen ordered a nice Moscato, HArleen gestured for Axel to place his drink order as she picked up her brush and started to think of what to paint.

[h-quinzcl-blog]

akagoddammit:

“Good call,” Jessica said. It hadn’t even crossed her mind – but if the Strike Force was as relentless as they seemed, it wouldn’t be surprising for them to stake out the area. “Some people would call that paranoid, but some people are goddamn idiots. At least they don’t know your name. Real or fake,” she added, grimacing down at her hand. The cut had started to itch, the towel scratchy in all the wrong ways.

She glanced up as Harleen sat down, stiffened a little, but didn’t move away either. After a second, she relaxed back into the futon. “You don’t have to thank me,” she mumbled. “Might not even work, but – sometimes it feels better to be doing something. Anything.” 

She shouldn’t ask. She knew that. But it had never stopped her before. “How’d he do it?” She turned her head towards Harleen, kept her gaze steady. “Trick you into letting him out, get you…. twisted up like this?” The words weren’t quite right, didn’t quite cover the scope of it – she couldn’t say for sure, but from what little Harleen had told her and the nagging sense of familiarity, she knew that she just didn’t have the words for something like this. 

Snorting at the suggestion that some people would call her paranoid, she responded, “Between Joker and the Strike Force, I am paranoid. It kept me alive when I was...in Gotham, and now it’s keeping me safe here.” She paused, then added, “They don’t know your name, either, at least, so that’s good.”

At the thought that her efforts would be in vain, Harleen shuddered. Jessica was right, it might be. But it was worth the effort if it even lessened the chance she would be found. And as Jessica said, just doing something helped. Even the idea of doing something helped.

At Jessica’s question, Harleen stiffened. It wasn’t a story she liked thinking of, nor one that she’d ever had reason to share. But Jessica was putting herself in danger by keeping Harleen around, the least she deserved was the truth. “I was a resident at Arkham Asylum back in Gotham. I wanted to be famous for curing one of the Gotham Rogues, egocentric as I was. So when the chance popped up to treat the Joker, the worst of them, I jumped on it. I thought I was good enough to cure him, and then I’d be rich, well-respected, and rise in the ranks. I was an idiot.” She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice shook. “He was...charming. Genteel. Made me think he cared about me like no one had since I was a kid. Made me think he loved me....and that I loved him. That he was just misunderstood, that everything he did was just a joke and he didn’t mean any harm by it. He talked me into busting him out, and from there, twisted me into his puppet. I realized he was crazy, but I thought I loved him--no, I did love him--and so I did whatever he asked, no matter how much it cost me. He left me to the cops or Batman more often than I can count, and that’s not even talking about the physical or emotional abuse. I tried to get away--met a gal named Ivy, she helped me out a bunch--but he’d always find me, mind-rape me into being his again. Finally, Batman put him in Arkham while I was with Ivy, and I took the opportunity to run away. Left Ivy behind, left Joker and Gotham behind, just ran. I ended up in New York and forged my papers, and you know the rest.” She sank back into the couch, emotionally exhausted from recounting a story she never thought she’d have to think of again.

[h-quinzcl-blog]

tricksareforvids:

           “Sweet.” Axel comments breezily, giving his yo-yo a last whirl before finally tucking it away back into his pocket again. Shouldn’t be needing it any time soon, as long as things kept chill around here. He comes up beside her, nosily leaning over to glimpse at the words she’s inputting into her phone. 

                 His expression brightens a little at the price tag. Okay, not that bad. He’s wondering about whether he should pipe up or say something about her offering to purchase his share too, but he’s easily won over by the glamour of the former Queen of Crime in Gotham offering to buy him a round of wine and art supplies.

                              “That deal is so good I’m gonna have to see it to believe it.” He adds with a more than slightly impressed tone as he walks with her, grin curling at the edges of his expression.

                  “Wicked. Thanks for picking up my side of things. I’ll pay you back when I’m a successful billionaire entrepreneur guy with all the legitimate money in the world.”

Harleen led the way to the studio, smiling at her new friend. “No problem,” she responded. “And yeah, when you’re the next Bruce Wayne, you can pay me back the $10.” She laughed, smiling genuinely for what felt like the first time in ages. This felt right. Something about Axel made her feel at ease, and she rather liked the change.

As they reached the building that housed the business, Harleen grabbed the door and held it open, gesturing grandly for Axel to enter. She wasn’t a supervillain anymore, but she still had a flair for being overdramatic. “After you, good sir,” she said with a grin. 

[h-quinzcl-blog]

akagoddammit:

Jessica couldn’t help the flood of relief that washed through her veins at that. “Good,” she said, nodding once. She paused, biting her lip. “The not psychoanlyzing thing. Not the part where you were manipulated into releasing a dangerous maniac,” she added, voice flippant. She took a seat on her futon where she’d ‘slept’ on last night – she’d insisted Harleen take the bed since she wasn’t going to use it anyway. “Can’t say I blame you,” she murmured, glancing over at her. She hand’t wanted to keep taking on cases after everything with Kilgrave, but there wasn’t much else she could do. She didn’t have other skill sets. “So what do you do now that you’ve left the quack business behind?” she asked, picking at the towel around her hand. 

“I work at a boutique down the street from where all the shit went down,” she replied. “I told ‘em I got the flu so I don’t have to go back over there for a little while, until I can go home once the heat dies down.” She moved to sit beside Jessica, careful not to sit too close. She respected personal space, and Jessica seemed to need more than some people. “Gonna use the free time to do like you suggested, plant fake trails so the Joker can’t find me as easily. Thanks again for that suggestion, it does help the anxiety, knowing that I’ll be doing something to prevent him finding me, at least for a little while.”

[h-quinzcl-blog]

tricksareforvids:

                 He snapped the yo-yo back into his palm as an expression of unexpecting surprise when she goes and mentions an art gallery. Oh, man, not something he was keen about. Besides, odds are he’d just be too tempted to steal something out of sheer boredom. 

                      The second idea she offers sounds like a decent compromise though, and it’s to that he smiles slightly and rests his chin atop his fingers in thought. The fact you had to pay a fee to have fun didn’t sit well with him at all, but it was still miles better than an art gallery; plus, a promise of booze. 

                                      “I dig it. You know of a place?”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s far from here, either,” Harleen responded with a smile. Punching “Painting With a Twist” into her phone, she got the address. “It’s a five minute walk, and only $10. My treat, since you’re the one who convinced me to go out for my own sanity.” She started walking in the right direction, gesturing for Axel to follow her. “Ten dollars for unlimited wine and art supplies is a pretty good deal,” she mused. “You can’t buy the stuff at a store for that cheap.”

[h-quinzcl-blog]

akagoddammit:

Jessica had intended to just swipe at the blood, maybe wrap the towel around her hand once, but Harleen took control of the situation. Jessica felt her breath catch in her throat, and she went very still as the other woman wrapped the wound. She didn’t quite have Claire’s easy, practiced, tired routine, but it was clear she knew what she was doing. “I heal pretty fast,” she murmured, pulling her hand back when Harleen finished. She eyed the woman up and down. “You were a shrink?” she asked, not sure if the small tension in her voice came from incredulity or distrust. Psychiatrists weren’t her favorite people in the world. “That’s… surprising.” 

Harleen nodded. The woman had recovered fast enough from a full hit from a taser baton; a cut on the hand would probably heal fast enough as well. She probably had some healing factor or something--hence her running from the task force. At Jessica’s question, Harleen averted her eyes. “I’m not gonna psychoanalize you or anything,” she said in a tired voice. “I left that part of my life behind when Joker manipulated me into helping him escape the asylum the first time, and considering it’s what got me into a position where he could use me in the first place, it’s not a skill set I like using.”

[h-quinzcl-blog]

akagoddammit:

Jessica had followed enough people who’d wanted to disappear to know what worked and what didn’t. “Find another Amanda Greene. A legit one, with papers. Get copies of those, which is easy enough in an overworked NYC office, with a little charm and a lot of lying. Use her information to set up a name change. A legal one. Then do it again. Get other fake IDs, steal dead people’s social security numbers, have a thousand names. Leave a paper trail a mile long, and bury the bastard in it. It’d be better to leave the country, but I’m guessing if you wanted to be in Hong Kong, you’d be there by now,” she said, just letting the ideas pop off her head. She’d wanted to disappear once, too. But she hadn’t ever been able to let go of her name – a stupid, stubborn pride. He’d taken so much from her, had tried taking this but she’d decided not to let him. She’d always be Jessica Jones. 

Harleen’s thanks pulled her from the memories before they could suck her in. “I’m not taking your money. You’ll need it, for your name-collecting,” she said, waving a hand through the air. “Call it my thanks to you. If you weren’t in that alley, Miss Hawthorne and I would have matching necklaces,” she murmured, letting her eyes close for a moment. Today had been a closer call than she cared to admit. 

Harleen nodded. She’d seen another Amanda Greene in the library card database when she’d filed for hers; she shouldn’t be too hard to track down and copy. From there, it was a matter of some time and effort and a little bit of subterfuge to do as Jessica said, and from there, it would be so much harder for the Joker to find her. She took a long breath, feeling like she could be safe for the first time in a long time. “I thought about moving out of the country,” she said after a moment. “But passports are harder to fake and easier to track, from what I read. I figured he’d start looking further away, not thinking I’d have just run across the bridge.”

A pause, then, “If you say so.” She felt a pang of guilt go through her as she thought of Miss Hawthorne, and her probable fate. They’d tried, but it probably hadn’t been enough, unless she’d managed to get the collar off while the brutes were still chasing Jessica and Harleen. The idea was improbable at best, though, and gave Harleen little comfort. She privately vowed to leave some cash on the table when she left Jessica’s apartment for the last time, though.