Like a Disco Ball
Roleplaying Log: Like a Disco Ball
IC Details

Post-Harley's Christmachanukah Hullaballoo XII, Harley tries to beat up a Batman. He cuffs her and runs away from the authorities instead.

Other Characters Referenced: Joker, Amanda Waller (Not by Name)
IC Date: January 06, 2020
IC Location: Gotham, NJ
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 15 Jan 2020 07:11
Rating & Warnings: PG
Scene Soundtrack: I Love the Night Life (Disco 'Round) by Alicia Bridges
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

So the tank is stopped! The shadow is gone! …And Harley is losing her mind laughing on the floor of the Sherman tank that her honey gave her, because she just covered the Batman in pink and silver glitter.

All in all, the clown in the peppermint-striped army helmet, with her furry babies nearby, is counting this as a victory. (And, honestly, Gotham should probably, too, as she's only hurled Deadpool into one building.) Nevermind the fact that she's incapacitated with laughter in a tank with the Batman. Or that her hyenas have yet to rouse themselves back to consciousness. Or that her alabaster-complexioned sweetheart is absolutely nowhere to be found, and he has left her without anything even remotely looking like support. There's not another clown mask anywhere to be found.

The glitter sticks to Batman's suit in rather unflattering ways. He looks a lot like a bat shaped disco ball.

With a sigh, he simply stands as he watches Harley laugh herself sick on the floor of the tank. They're alone now as the two wait for the police to arrive so that she can, once again, be incarcerated. He positions himself right by the exit in order to ensure that she won't escape.

"Harley." His voice rings with disappointment and also annoyance at being covered in glitter. "What in the world were you thinking?"

Harley, for her part, just continues to laugh. And why shouldn't she? She sees a humor in the places that others don't.

That's why she's still alive, isn't it?

Still, it will become clear in rather short order, that she's fallen a long way in the months apart. She doesn't bother getting up or starting a fight. Instead, she just pulls off her helmet and holds it at the end of two stick-straight arms over her face. She twists it this way and that, an accessory for the dance she twists upon the floor. Blonde pigtails frame her head like a halo against the drab green steel-plate floor. "I was thinkin', Batsy, that it sure sucks ta get forgotten. But my puddin', he didn't forget. He caaaame fer me an' he wrapped up my Christmas present with a big! Shiny! Bow. Isn't it grand?"

Still, Batman watches as Harley watches. He already knows that she needs help, help that he can't actually give. Help he's not sure she can accept or would know what to do with.

Crossing his arms, glitter sprinkles to the floor as he dislodges it, but he pays it no mind. This is Gotham, weirder things have happened than Batman being covered in glitter. The triangles of his eyes narrow slightly as he watches her.

"No, I don't believe it is." Of course, he's already told her how he feels on this subject. "Rolling tanks down Old Gotham isn't a way to prevent yourself from being forgotten. It's a way to get yourself back into Belle Reve."

He says two words, and the laughter stops cold. In an instant the Bat sobers Harley, and she looks at him like she might just finally start fighting. There's fear there, and more than a little of it.

They often say that Harley Quinn isn't scared of anything. The problem is that it isn't actually true.

Still. There are appearances to keep, and she hides it with another eruption of laughter and bravado. "Fat chance, B-Man! Because Mistah J blew it apart, comin' fer me. They're gonna be tryin' to put it back together fer months." It's all sing-song after that. "All Satan's horses, and all of her men, couldn't put Hell back together again."

Rolling onto her side, then to her belly, Quinn starts slowly getting back up. First to all fours, then to a stand if allowed, even as she starts another erratic pendulum swing of her mood. "I ain't goin' back," she offers, tone darkening quickly.

It's clear that his words have an effect, which is exactly what he meant them to have. He wasn't threatening her, he was simply stating what - in his mind - are facts. When you break the law and do it this repeatedly, there are consequences.

"He may, but he's not here." And while the Joker may, again, attempt to break Harley out, that doesn't mean he will not turn her over to authorities who will have their own methods and punishments.

Bats makes no move to make Harley remain on the floor. She can stand up, she can move, she can even attempt to attack him. However, he remains still and intractable, though still sparkly. He hasn't even attempted to brush off the glitter. It seems that he believes that there are more important things to focus his attention on.

"That's not my decision. Your own decisions brought you to this place, Harley."

It's a wise decision to never take one's eyes off of Harley Quinn. "No, they didn't," Harley tells him simply as she drapes a hand over her decolletage, her nose twisting upwards. "See, here's the thing! Ya can make yer own choices, but only so far."

Her haughty attitude quickly shifts to a snarl, as she curls down and her head drops to hang between her shoulders with an altogether antagonistic tilt. "Because then someone else makes a different choice and decides I don't get one. I tried. And it didn't matter."

"You and I both know that's not true. What you do matters."

Still, he keeps an eye on her as her head drops, as her body language turns more hostile. Batman remains like a gargoyle in his place, keeping Harley here until the police arrive. He pays no attention to her hands or where they may be placed. The Bat is justicesexual.

"It doesn't matter your situation, you will always make a choice." He gives a quick glance around the tank interior before those blanked out eyes focus back on the blonde woman in front of him.

"What did you think rolling a tank down Old Gotham would do for you? What did you think this would accomplish? You knew what I would do. You knew what the police would do. You made this choice knowing its consequences and yet you still did them. So, why did you do it?"

"I told you why," Harley snaps viciously, and she eyes the portal up above that would so easily be her escape. She could make it. She's certain she could.

But then she'd be leaving her babies behind. There's another snarl, but this one is pure frustration.

"So yer not listenin' either!" With a quick hook of her foot, she snags her helmet with her toes, only to grab it and start swinging it by its strap. "No one! Ever! Listens!"

"So you wouldn't be forgotten?"

Batman's cowl eyebrow raises. "And this is how you'd like to be remembered? As a woman who brought terror to people? As a villain?"

There's a shake of his head, perhaps true bafflement there. A hand reaches up to ensure that the helmet will not hit him, though he stays his course.

"I'm listening, Harley. I just don't think you even know what you're trying to say."

"No, yer not. Yer only half-listenin'." And she does swing that helmet towards the dark (and glittering) figure who occupies the tight space with her. She'll go for his head. She'll find his hand instead. "An' who are they ta judge, anyway? What do they know? What do you know? Ya think yer so smart, world's greatest detective! Think ya know sooooooo much about what I need ta do, and where I need ta go!" She punctuates words with a helmet slung like a waeapon. "ABOUT WHAT. THEY. DO. TA. PEOPLE. LIKE. ME."

And somewhere in the middle of all of it, her mood shifts again. She can't keep herself even, and every single thing she feels is jet-engine loud, roaring in her brain. And this time, it's tears that mingle in with the fury. "YOU! DON'T! KNOW! SO FIGURE. IT. OUT!"

"I'm listening as much as you're telling me."

Batman remains a gargoyle. He stays, he allows the helmet to crash into his hand. It moves, sprays of glitter hitting forward and then coating Harley as she attempts to hit him.

"What do I know? I know what your actions have done. I know you have threatened civilians. I know you have threatened acts of violence. I think you need to be held in a place where you will not threaten others again until you understand why you act in such a manner."

He reaches forward to snag the hand that continually hits at him with the helmet. It's a firm grip, one that she will have to tug to get out of.

"It is not my place to figure out your problems, Harley. So, you tell me. Where should I put people like you?"

He grabs one tiny wrist; she swings with the other without even thinking. She's so busy screeching that Harley doesn't even hear the screaming of police sirens as they close in. "Not Belle Reve. No one deserves Belle Reve. And yer gonna try ta send me back fer some property damage? SCREW YOU, BATS." She throws in a few kicks for good measure, going for the liver. The spleen. "I ain't goin' back! Not now! Not ever."

The fist connects, but it hits the suit. There's barely a wince as Batman holds onto Harley, the sirens coming closer in the background.

"Where did you think you would go when you were caught?" It's an honest question. "You did this knowing if you were caught that is exactly where you were going."

The kicks hit, again against a suit that has been designed to absorb impact. "You will go where the courts assign you. Harley, you did this. Your actions brought you to this point. I am trying to help you."

"Yeah? You so sure about that? What else was I supposed ta do when he gift-wrapped me a Sherman with that beautiful 75mm M3 on the front that I always wanted?" The words come out, and they sing a little too closely to truth, or whatever passes for it with Harley. So it's another sharp veer back in the conversation with dizzying speed as she goes back for a comedic beat. "I mean, seriously now, look at the craftmanship!" All of this, of course, is said between growls and punches, but at least her mood is carrying her back into something less murderous. For now.

The background fills with the static and chatter of the police radios.

"They jes' don't make 'em like this anymore!"

Harley keeps punching, keeps attacking. Batman lets them all land for the most part until he hears the sirens have surrounded the tank entirely. That is when he holds onto each wrist and then handcuffs Harley as she attacks him.

"What do you do? You say no. You say no to chaos, you say no to the impulses that tell you to do the wrong thing."

Batman pulls Harley up and then starts to actually move. He starts to climb out of the tank and looks down at the woman he's handcuffed inside.

"There is a voice in your head. Maybe there are many, but you know the one I'm tlaking about: the one that is telling you what you do is wrong. You'll listen to it some day, Harley. I know you will."

Batman pulls himself out of the tank and there is some snickering outside. The glitter is still there, he's coated in it. He ignores the detectives and the police officers that find Batman covered in glitter hilarious.

"She's in there," he says, leaving it to them to handle.

You say no.

Except that she had, and…

Slender wrists caught up. Slender wrists wrapped in steel. When the Batman pulls Harley up, and he will see—perhaps—that what he says cuts deeper than it has any right to. She snarls on a delayed beat.

And when he climbs out, she collapses to her knees beside Lou to murmur to him gently and set his head on her lap. She curls protectively over his head with all of herself, resting her head atop his as she tries to not descend back to the bad place. The place where the tears live. "Hey there, sweet boy. It's gonna be okay. Mama's gonna figure this out, okay? You and yer brother just need to take care of each other 'til I come fer ya. But I'm gonna come. It's gonna be okay, I promise."

Now, while some of the cops would perhaps be moving in to take hold of the vigilante… Others are just grateful for the gift-wrapped clown and her still-sleeping pets. They'll conveniently miss his departure when focusing on collecting the harlequin inside. And they'll take her into custody.

But she won't stay there. It will hit the morning paper that something goes awry between point a and point b, and she never arrives to booking. And it's absolutely not because she still has a thing or two still hidden on her person that they miss when taking possession of her. Not at all.

This is just how the cycle goes.

Round and round and round.

Like a disco ball.

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