This choice: Harley escapes somehow—she's on the run, and getting hungrier by the minute! • Go Back... The black and white shook slightly as Harley struggled against the restraints around her wrists. They were done too tight, causing the white skin around her wrist to swell slightly over the cuffs as she tried in vain to wriggle them out. She let out pained little grunts of exertion as she fought against the handcuffs, but found herself getting not closer to out of them.
“Don’t bother, Quinn.” She heard from outside the car, “I put ‘em on extra tight, just for you.”
Harley felt the car shake slightly as Montoya plopped herself down in the driver’s side. She was one of the cops who stayed out to patrol the city while everyone else got to go the party that Harley and her Mistah Jay crashed.
“Oh gee, ya shouldn’t have.” Harley griped from the back seat, “I hear having hands is so last season anyway.”
“Just keep talking payaso, I’ve got all night.” Renee rolled her deep brown eyes as she slid the key into the ignition, “Figures I get stuck with cleanup duty.”
Officer Montoya’s black and white came to life with a fiery roar as she backed out of the GCPD building and rolled onto the road. Arkham Asylum was a good way’s away from this side of town, meaning that they had at least a good forty minutes of awkward cop/criminal silence ahead of them. What was worse, the cold weather and Christmas season were upon them, meaning that traffic was particularly impossible today of all days.
***
Harley let out several disengaging moans as she rolled her head against the back of her seat. Her face was starting to swell up thanks to Batgirl and her stupid yellow boots; there was a big purple lump on her cheek and a matching bruise on her shoulder that bore the faint outline of a bat just below the shoulder blade.
“Uuuuugh.” Harley whined as she stared up at the ceiling of the car, “Are we there yet?”
“No.” Montoya took a slurp of her coffee, “Quiet.”
“Uuuuugh.” She moaned again, her head rolling disinterestedly, “This is so boring. Can’t we at least turn on the radio or something?”
“I said quiet, Quinn!” Montoya barked before promptly going back to ignoring her perp
Harley huffed and rolled her big blue eyes, blowing a puff of air to move the strand of black hair from in front of her face. She glanced out the window—nothing but bright lights and honking cars. The window was cold against her forehead, and she let out the most pitiful sigh she could muster as a million thoughts raced through her head. How was she going to get out of this one? Where was her Puddin’? How could Brat-girl have taken down an entire squad of mooks like that? How many polaks did it take to screw in a lightbulb? Her mind was a complicated mess of emotions as she stared out into the city—however everything came to a close as a tell-tale sound broke the awkward silence between the two women.
GRRRGLE.
Harley winced as a powerful pain pinched her from the inside out. It took her a moment to register what had just happened, but upon realizing that her stomach had just rumbled, Harley’s eyes widened with noticeable terror. She immediately hung her head down to look at her stomach as another disconcerting groan escaped her gut.
“Oh no…” Harley whispered with genuine fear, “No I… I thought I hadn’t… Batgirl… I couldn’ta—“
“Hey, I said quiet Quinn!” Montoya leaned back around to look at Harley through the protective glass separating the front and back seats, “You won’t like it if I’ve gotta come back there!”
Harley squinched her eyes shut as another painful hunger pang overcame her, her stomach crying out in agony as the toxin she and the Joker had created began to affect her. Surely she wasn’t being affected by her own creation, right? That chemical bath she’d done had given her lots of immunities to poison—surely this was one of them, right? Right?
Her answer came in the form of a particularly bad hunger pang, one that caused her to fall over onto her side in the back seat of the car. She lay on her red pony-tail as she began to salivate, watching enviously as Montoya took a slurp of that fancy, sugary coffee from the Starbucks down the road.
“Ooh…” Harley moaned just under the enormous sounds her stomach was making, “I don’t… feel so hot…”
“Quinn?” Montoya glanced into the rear-view mirror, “Hey, answer me Quinn.”
Harley’s noises sounded an awful lot like she was dying. Like something was going to burst right out of her chest—and it a city like Gotham, Montoya had learned that just about anything was possible. Despite the fact that she was a crazy clown killer, Montoya didn’t need a dead perp on her hands.
“Hey, hey!” Montoya turned around to see the drooling, moaning harlequin in the back of her seat, “Madre de dios…”
Montoya grabbed the police radio from her console and pressed the button on the side.
“This is Officer Montoya calling in an 11-41 at the corner of Lincoln and March, I repeat this is Officer Montoya requesting an ambulance on the corner of Lincoln and March. I’ve got a passenger back here having some kind of breakdown.”
The fiery Latina woman cut the corner through traffic and pulled herself out of the mess of cars, rolling off of the highway and coming to a sudden jerking stop. Surely enough, she was at the corner of Lincoln and March Street, a popular spot on her route. Renee hopped out of the car and rushed over to Harley’s side, pulling open the door and bending down to check on her transpot.
“Quinn?” she asked, grabbing Harley by the jaw forcefully, “Hey, stay with me Quinn. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Harley’s stomach made another painful-sounding grumble, enough to take Officer Montoya back a little. The cinnamon-skinned officer winced at the horrible sounds Harley’s body was making—it was hard listening to something like that. And with her history with the Joker, who had a background in just about every awful thing that anyone could do to another person, he could have done literally anything to her…
“Harley?” Montoya asked softly, “Are you… are you gonna be okay?”
The two-toned tart looked up at Officer Montoya with bleary blue eyes, still wincing at the pain she was experiencing. She recoiled slightly at another pang, causing Montoya to move her grip from Harley’s face to her shoulders.
“Those… damn pies…” Harley whimpered
“Pies?” Montoya repeated, “Back at the party?”
“Y-Yeah…” Harley struggled to answer, “I… I…”
“What?” the officer shook her slightly, “Harley, come on you’ve got to tell me what you put in them so we know how to help y—“
KA-RACK!!
Harley’s head suddenly shot up, cracking across Montoya’s nose like a ball meets a bat. The Hispanic officer fell to the snowy ground clutching at her face while Harley slithered her way out of the car. The hungry harlequin gasped as she fell to her knees, the pain in her stomach keeping her down on the ground for a bit longer than she intended. Harley struggled to stand under her own power, legs wobbling under the strain of having to support herself.
“Gotcha ya… ya putz.” Harley wheezed, snatching Montoya's keys from the snow and unlocking her handcuffs, "Good thing ya called an ambulance, Monty."
As the sound of an approaching ambulance came within earshot, Harley shakily made her escape, leaving Montoya to deal with a severely bloodied nose...  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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