Harley Quinn's Deadly Bargaining Chip

Gotham City's East End.

Inside an unfinished building.

Floyd Lawton, code name Deadshot.

He stood behind a concrete pillar and slammed his right fist into the wall.

"What the hell is going through that fat pig Amanda's head?" Floyd spat, yanking off his tactical mask to reveal a face twisted with anger.

"She expects us to take on that monster? Does she even know what 'Task Force' means?"

He turned and kicked over an empty gas drum.

"That guy crushed Superman under his foot! Superman! What are we supposed to do, pick his teeth for him?"

Digger Harkness, Captain Boomerang.

He crouched in a puddle, deftly stuffing several custom boomerangs into his tactical backpack.

"Quit yelling, Floyd." Dig zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"That sow wants us dead. We just don't play along. Gotham doesn't even have cops anymore. It's the perfect chance to disappear."

He stood and dusted off his hands.

"We're done here. I'm going to find a black-market brain surgeon to dig this damn bomb out of my neck. I've got a better chance of surviving brain surgery than staying here."

On the side of the unfinished building facing the street.

Nanaue, King Shark.

His massive, ten-foot body crouched beneath a windowsill. He took no part in the argument.

Through a crack in the wall, he stared several streets away.

At the blocks surrounding Iceberg Lounge.

Through the rain, several unmarked heavy construction vehicles stood parked along the curb.

A group in fully sealed hazmat suits used high-pressure hoses to wash blood and pulped flesh from the ground.

Another group tossed charred bodies and twisted armored-vehicle wreckage into the backs of trucks.

Nanaue touched the thick blue-gray skin he was so proud of.

But looking at those bodies burned to charcoal in the distance, he felt as though his skin were no thicker than paper.

"Nanaue not fight." King Shark turned his head, his voice deep and muffled. "That red light too hot. Nanaue turn into grilled fish."

"Hear that?" Dig headed for the stairs. "Even the big fish says no. Let's go before that killing machine notices us."

Floyd put his mask back on and pressed his wrist communicator. No signal.

"Let's go." Floyd made up his mind.

The three had barely taken two steps.

Clink, clink, clink.

A crisp metallic tapping came from the shadows below the stairs.

Then came the pop of a bubble of gum.

Harleen Quinzel stepped out of the shadows.

She wore tight red-and-blue shorts and torn fishnet stockings, dragging a baseball bat stained dark red behind her.

The tip scraped across the concrete floor with an ear-splitting screech.

Harley tilted her head, her twin ponytails swaying. In her left hand, she tossed a Rubik's Cube-sized metal device whose surface pulsed with a dim green light.

She blocked the stairwell, cutting off the three of them.

"Where are you boys going?" Harley flashed an innocent smile.

Floyd stopped. The silenced barrel mounted on his wrist pointed straight at Harley's forehead.

"Move, you crazy bitch." Floyd's voice was ice-cold. "Before I blow that head full of mush apart."

Harley leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the muzzle.

"Go on, shoot." Harley giggled.

She raised the metal cube in her left hand and waved it before Floyd's eyes. "Know what this is? A military-grade Signal Jammer, made in Black Mask's underground arms factory."

Dig frowned, reaching for the boomerang at his waist.

"Know why that fat pig Waller hasn't ordered us into action yet?" Harley asked, chewing her gum, her voice theatrically bright.

"Because she can't reach us! This little cutie blocks more than our comms. It cuts the control signal to the Nano Bombs in our necks, too."

Floyd's eyes darkened.

"You stole a jammer," Floyd said, staring at her.

"Borrowed," Harley corrected. "The engineer who built it wouldn't lend it to me, so I used this bat to knock his brains out and take a look. Nothing in there. How boring."

"Nice work." Dig breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward. "If the bomb signal's blocked, that's even more reason to leave. Give me that thing, and we'll go our separate ways."

Harley's smile vanished.

"Leave?"

Harley swung her bat into the concrete wall beside her. Chips of stone flew past Dig's cheek.

"Nobody's leaving!" Harley shrieked. "My Puddin' is dead! That bastard crushed Puddin's head in Arkham!"

Harley panted, her chest heaving.

"I'm going to skin him. I'm going to knit Puddin' a scarf from his intestines. Today, if any of you dare back out..."

Harley raised the metal cube.

Her thumb settled directly over the green-lit power button.

One millimeter of pressure would shut off the jammer.

Far away in Washington, Amanda Waller would reacquire their signals in an instant.

Knowing Waller, the moment she reconnected after losing contact, she would hit the detonator.

"Don't want to do the job? Then we all get our brains blown out!"

Harley burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the empty building.

Floyd froze.

Dig's half-raised hand stopped in midair.

King Shark Nanaue clutched his bald head and crouched miserably back in the corner.

Three of the worst criminals alive were completely at the mercy of one madwoman.

Floyd stared at Harley's thumb. He had met countless ruthless people, but ruthless people always had a goal.

Only a lunatic truly didn't care whether she lived or died.

And right now, Harley was a lunatic through and through.

"Take your thumb off it." Floyd lowered his arm, the muzzle pointing at the floor.

"Are you coming or not?" Harley pressed, her thumb still rubbing against the button.

"We're coming." Dig spat a curse through clenched teeth. "Just my damn luck! Keep a steady grip on that thing!"

Harley broke into a grin again.

"That's more like it. We're a team, after all."

Floyd walked into the open space, pulled a map from his backpack, and spread it on the concrete floor.

The four vicious criminals gathered around.

"If we're going to die anyway, we might as well know what we're walking into." Floyd pointed at the area marked red in the center of the map.

"Target: the King of Gotham." Floyd rattled off the details. "He has Superman's powers, only stronger. And that massacre earlier... Fuck..."

He covered his face and swore.

Floyd looked at Harley.

"You want revenge? We'll get you in front of him. How you kill him is your problem. We're not getting involved beyond that."

Floyd shot Nanaue and Dig a look.

Nanaue didn't understand it.

Harley stroked the baseball bat in her hands, her eyes alight with obsession.

"I will. I'll give him one hell of a surprise."

Iceberg Lounge, luxurious penthouse suite.

Outside, blood ran through the streets beneath wind and rain. Inside, the air was heavy with the decadent scent of expensive fragrance and strong liquor.

Chu Men reclined in the middle of the sofa.

A breathy moan that made the heart race echoed through the spacious living room.

Jay leaned over in front of Chu Men.

Lark stood behind the sofa, giving Chu Men a massage of a rather different kind.