Alright, starting this chapter, I'll assume you've read through the previous ones. Some of the chapters might work as standalones, but I won't be going out of my way for that. Comic book logic and crazy sex fantasy rules, go!
*****
Gotham City at night was a grim place, even during the periods where it wasn't ruled by supervillains. Those streetlamps that still functioned cast feeble cones of light that failed to penetrate the city's darkness. A young woman scurried from light to light on her way home until a man in a ski mask leapt out of an alleyway with a gun. She screamed, knowing what would happen.
The man disappeared.
She blinked, stopped cringing, and looked around more carefully. Her attacker was simply gone, exactly like she'd heard from her neighbors. When she looked to the skies, there was no one there, but she still smiled and whispered into the night. "Thanks, Superman."
Floating overhead, Superman smiled back. The attacker had been placed outside Superman territory... without any clothes or weapons. That was exactly the same thing that happened to any criminals who tried anything overt. He couldn't stop all crime personally, but the criminals were catching on and staying outside of the part of Gotham he controlled.
Eventually he planned to stabilize the entire city that way, but it would take time. He could have beaten all the supervillains in a day, but that would destroy the feeble order that kept Gotham from falling apart entirely. Those criminals who had survived the Joker's toxic bomb were the only structure that remained. Their ranks had swelled when corrupt officials released practically everyone in Arkham.
But Clark could play that game now. He didn't rely on Arkham or the police: normal criminals were ejected from his domain naked, supervillains got frozen in crystals from the Fortress of Solitude. With a little help from Catwoman and Poison Ivy, he could easily make his own authority.
"Yoohoo, Superman!"
It was normal to hear someone calling out in the city, and his pseudonym wasn't rare. But the familiar voice made him immediately devote his attention to pinpointing the source. He worried that it was a record or trap of some kind, but he soon spotted her, standing in the middle of an intersection.
Harley Quinn. One of the things he'd done wrong since coming to Gotham was letting her escape. She was dangerous enough on her own and might be a pawn in another of the Joker's murderous schemes. After saving her life he'd been more focused on preventing Gordon's death, but he should have taken the time to restrain her. Most likely she'd have sung a different tune if he'd gotten his dick inside her.
"Great Scott," Clark muttered to himself, but it wasn't the same. He really was the kind of person who had those thoughts now and he couldn't go back. Besides, he had an insane woman in the middle of his territory holding what looking like detonator.
"Suuupes!" Harley spun in a circle, one hand to her mouth. "Too busy to talk with little old me? Things will start exploding soon!"
The safest thing to do would be take her out instantly, but Superman decided to approach at a slower speed. If she'd wanted to blow things up, she could have done so already. Talking might let him learn something. Since he was hovering, she didn't hear his approach. "What is it, Harley?"
"There you are!" She turned to him, grinned, and waved the detonator around. "You can just stay right there, or a bunch of stuff goes boom-boom!"
"You want to talk? Talk." Superman folded his arms and watched her. Though he got another look at her fantastic body, he made sure to analyze the detonator - the internal parts suggested it would trigger if she took her thumb off the button. It would be easy for him to reach her and hold her thumb down, so he could afford to hear her out.
"Yay, you really showed up! So are you seriously protecting this part of the city?"
"Yes, and that means I'm not a big fan of it exploding."
"Aww, but explosions are fun! Well, not so much fun when they're happening to you." Harley peered at him curiously. "Why'dja save me, Supes?"
"You didn't deserve to die, Harley, especially since the Joker used you like that."
"My puddin would
never
..." Midway through her statement, Harley slumped forward. "Aww, who am I kiddin'? If you hadn't been there, I'd have been a goner for sure."
Superman frowned, trying to judge how sincere she was. "Have you been back to see the Joker since then?"
"Naw..." Harley twisted back and forth guiltily. "I know I should, he's gonna be real angry with me. But lately he's been trying out his knives on me, and I don't like that game."
"The Joker... uses knives on you?"
"Oh, don't worry! It's was my fault, I spit instead a swallowin'! I deserved it!"
"That's..." Clark massaged his eyes. "That's really fucked up. Have you ever thought about seeing a psychiatrist?"
"I
am
a psychiatrist, silly!" She stuck her tongue out at him.
She seemed almost like she'd forgotten about the trigger in her hands. After a moment, Clark sighed. "Alright, I'm obviously not going to talk you through that one. What are your demands?"
"Demands?" Harley stared at him, then looked at the detonator and her face beamed. "Oh yeah, I have bombs! Uh, I mainly just really wanted you to answer my question, but... give a sec, I'll think of somethin'!"
It was obvious going to take more than a second for her to put a serious thought together. He had to wonder if her brain was completely fried or if there was some of her old self left. More importantly, what would happen if he gave in to his desires and just fucked her? Ivy had said it was like getting a clean slate, letting her start over without all her neuroses. It was easy to imagine fucking Harley Quinn, but would it do any good?
