Cutscene: Option 1

July 13, 2018:

Harley takes her babies for a walk. And starts to work on a plan.

Scarlato's Scuba Shop

A family-owned out-of-place Scuba shop near Gotham's harbor.


NPCs: A Put-Upon Scuba Shop Clerk Named TJ. Or Charlie. Or something.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

“Look, Charlie—”

“It’s TJ—”

Look, when you have two handsome hyenas, you get to make up all the names you want. But ya don’t. And I do. So I say yer name is Charlie, and yer gonna answer to Charlie every time I say Charlie. Capice, Charlie?”


Exactly, Charlie. So glad we came to this understandin’. So, as I was sayin’…”

Harley Quinn has not been what most people would call a “good girl” this evening. While she’s mostly gotten her two fur babies reacquainted with life in Gotham over the past couple of weeks, they still haven’t gotten all the way there. They’re close enough, though, that she’s willing to brave bringing them out into public. Because surely a pair of working animals such as they would benefit immensely from the opportunity to put their unique skills to use.

Dressed up in a red and black plaid skirt, a collared shirt with short sleeves tied at the waist, and a pair of knee high boots, she’s gotten all dolled up for the outing.

She walked them all the way from a rundown apartment in the Narrows—the one that she is hoping is still largely unknown—to a tiny shop on the harbor. And then she walked them right into an out of place scuba shop, and right on top of Charlie.

Or TJ.

Or whatever you want to call him.

“I ain’t lookin’ for much,” Harley continues from her place where she’s studying her chipped up manicure while perched upon a glass counter filled with all manner of aquatic sonar devices for boats. “Just a very nice speargun. I know you sell ‘em, Charlie—” She looks pointedly in his direction. “So ya might as well jes’ go find one in the back and give it ta me.”

Harley pauses, her eyes rolling upwards. “And a scuba mask.”

Another pause. “And a snorkel.”

Another pause. “And some flippers.”

Her eyes drop back down to the manicure she’s studying as she continues. “And I certainly wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a wetsuit in red and black in my size. Or one in purple or green… in a large. …extra-large, maybe.”

Yet another pause. “If you have 'em.”

The babies, meanwhile, began happily tearing the man’s pant legs apart somewhere in the middle of her shopping list. Eventually Lou finds flesh to bite down on, and he does.

Then there’s screaming.

“Heel, boys,” Harley bids softly to her pets without looking up.

There’s just more screaming as Bud finds an arm.

BABIES, HEEL!!!” The harlequin’s forceful roar bids some darker recollection in her pets and, whining piteously, they come to either side of her and sit. They continue to whine and stare at TJ with all of the indications that it is only their mistress that keeps them at bay.

“Now. As I was saying,” Harley continues, her bisque-white features smoothing back to a placid veneer as she goes back to her manicure, as though her face hadn’t been arranged hadn’t been a fearful contortion just seconds before, “Harpoon, snorkel, fins, mask, and wetsuits if they're in my colors.”

She looks up to TJ where he has curled up on the floor around his bleeding arm, his bleeding leg tucked up close. Her eyelashes bat coquettishly as Bud licks the blood from the fur around his mouth.

“And if you could gift wrap ‘em, that’d be faboooo.” She smiles sweetly as she plants her hands on the glass counter and crosses her ankles, leaning in and her head cocking to the side as she sways her legs from side to side. “They’re a present to myself. Trust me…” Her hands come up, imitating the long line of the harpoon she wants as they point in Charlie/TJ’s direction, one eye squinting shut as she pantomimes taking aim. She bites her lip, and then tilts her head away from her invisible gun. She smiles and waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “I deserve it.


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