The sequel, as promised. The characters that appear are all 18 or above and owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros.
***
"ALL OF IT! In the fucking bag!"
A clown-masked thug jabbed his pistol barrel in the terrified bank clerk's face. The clerk, a young woman with tears smudging her mascara, scrambled to shove thick wads of notes from the vault's trolley into several duffel bags. The bank manager moaned quietly in the corner with blood running down the side of his face.
Two other men, also in clown masks, patrolled the bank's lobby. They waved their Kalashnikovs at terrified staff and customers. All of them were big and burly with their bodies covered in workman's overalls.
"Hurry up!" the thug yelled again.
"What's tha holdup?"
An outrageously-dressed young woman appeared. Her blonde hair was done up in messy pigtails with red tips. Her face was alabaster white, clashing with the loud red of her lipstick and heavy, dark eyeliner. She wore a red and black leather corset and breeches with tall, heeled boots. Her corset was low-cut and pushed up a pair of DD breasts into a mouth-watering cleavage, tightening around her waist to flare out around a very shapely ass. The leather breeches were practically painted on and highlighted a pair of firm, lithe legs, but the eye would be distracted by the pair of long-barrelled pistols in thigh holsters and the wooden baseball bat strapped to her back.
"Hey! We're on the clock here, boys!" Harley Quinn said in her thick New Jersey drawl. She looked at the thug in the vault and the scared clerk. "Whatcha staring at me for? Help the gal!"
The thug looked at her in confusion.
Harley sighed. She drew her pistol in a single fluid motion and shot a spot near the thug's foot. He jumped back in fright.
"I said
help
!"
The thug hurried to fill the other duffel bags, emptying cash into it. After a few minutes, half a dozen duffel bags packed with green sat in a pile. Harley barked at her crew. "Alright! Time's up!"
"
YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
"
The thugs and their prisoners looked up in confusion. The noise had come over the bank's PA system.
Harley's lip curled in irritation. "Boys? Grab the money. We're leaving."
The thugs threw duffel bags over their shoulders and backed towards the bank's evacuation stairwell.
Then the lights died. Harley groaned. "Well, shit."
Fortunately, the crew had come prepared. Torches clipped onto the barrels of their Kalashnikovs switched on and spears of light danced around in the gloom.
"Boss?" one thug asked. "What the hell is this?"
"Whaddya think this is?!" Harley snapped. She slid both her pistols out of her pistols and thumbed back the hammers. "It's him."
"
PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN AND I WON'T BREAK EVERY BONE YOU HAVE."
"Bite me!" Harley retorted.
"
HAVE IT YOUR WAY. FOUR
."
There was a buzzing crackle as each gun-light sputtered and died. Pitch black darkness reigned.
"Fuck!"
"I can't see!"
"What do we do?!"
There were a few soft thuds.
"Oh, shit!"
"What was that?"
"Gerry? Gerry!"
"No names, dumbasses!" Harley snapped, realising Gerry couldn't answer. "Hug the wall! Guns up!"
The room was green. The only dots of light were in the thugs' eyes. One of them was already on the ground.
"THREE."
A soft tap. "Hey! Was that you?"
"No."
"Then ÂÂ-- "
A muffled scream and a clatter. The screaming changed direction, seeming to come from above, before being suddenly cut off.
"
TWO
."
"Fuck this," Harley growled. Her large-calibre magnums boomed. The muzzle flashes illuminated a cloaked figure melting into the shadows.
"Take the money and go!" she ordered to the last thug.
The man ducked down the fire stairs. Harley squeezed off another volley and disappeared after him. The lights were working in the stairwell, and the thug was several flights down, a pair of duffel bags bouncing against his back.
Harley jumped down a few stairs and aimed back at the door they just came through. It swung open and Harley emptied rounds into the darkness.
"Fucking making a gal's life difficult!" she spat as her magnums roared until they clicked on empty chambers.
She whipped down the stairs, catching up to her henchman easily. Reaching the janitor's basement, they removed a large water grate and climbed down a slippery metal ladder into an empty storm drain. Necks down and shoulders hunched, they ran.
The thug turned around the corner and a silver baton slammed into his throat. His eyes bulged and the henchman collapsed, gagging, his fingers clutching at his bruised windpipe.
A red and black figure with a domino mask appeared strolled into view. "Your goons are down, Quinn. Just give it up."
Robin rolled an Eskrima baton between dexterous fingers.
"Hey, Bird Boy," Harley muttered angrily. "What? I'm not important enough for the big man himself?!"
As she spoke, she pulled out her baseball bat and cricked her neck.
"He's busy, tonight it's just me," Robin said confidently. "Drop the bat and come quietly or I'll take you in kicking and screaming."
"I pick kicking and screaming!" Harley snapped as she swung the bat at Robin's head. Robin ducked and whipped up his batons, clashing Harley's bat against the wall. Harley let the bat go and slammed a kick into Robin's gut. Robin dropped to one knee, winded. Harley kicked him again, but misjudged her distance and the blow glanced off Robin's shoulder, pushing him over. She swore and disappeared down the tunnel with one of the duffel bags of cash.
"See ya, Bird Brain!"
Robin leapt up in pursuit, tailing Harley through the labyrinth. He shot up and down ladders and ducked through tunnels. Despite Harley's efforts to lose him, he managed to keep her in sight. Robin was starting to break up a sweat when Harley disappeared up a nearby drain exit.
He followed her out of the drains through a discharge with its mouth open to a slow-moving stream. Robin swung out and onto the discharge, looking around. He was in a heavily-wooded scrub, the stream lazily flowing through it. Trees and bushes covered the area, with long, thick grass. Robin looked around. He could see burnt out remains of buildings, fences, a few cars. All of it was overgrown with green ferns. More to the point, Harley was nowhere to be seen, but there was a trail through the long grass where someone had recently run through.
Robin jumped down and headed into the woods, following the trail. Despite him being the one hunting Harley, he couldn't help but feel he was being watched.
"What's stumbled into my garden?" a soft voice purred.
Oh, shit
.
Robin reached down for a mask but couldn't find one. Dammit, he'd left it back at the Cave. Harley didn't use airborne psychotropics.
But others did.
"Oooh, it's a little bird," the voice said again, seemingly from behind him. Robin felt cool breath on his ear.
Robin whirled around, but there was nothing. Just the rustling of windblown trees.
"You're far away from home, little bird," the voice said softly, dripping with sensuality. "And you're all alone..."
Robin tore off a length of his cape and wrapped it around his mouth and nose. It wouldn't be perfect, but it'd serve for what was coming.
"Where are you, doctor?" Robin called, his voice muffled. He looked up into the trees. He thought he saw a flicker of movement.
"I'm everywhere, darling," she said. Her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Every leaf, every blade of grass. Every stem, root and branch."