Bruce took his first step toward Ririko.
"Bruce."
Thomas's voice came from farther down the corridor.
Bruce stopped. He gave Ririko one last look, then reluctantly turned and followed his father's group.
From around the corner, Ririko heard the Warden's fawning laughter and Thomas's low, polite replies.
She took a deep breath.
It's fine. Bruce is already here. It's not like he can sprout wings and fly away.
She was about to slip around the corner and take another corridor to "run into" Bruce again-
A hand clamped around her wrist.
Harley Quinn appeared out of nowhere and pinned her firmly against the wall.
Harley's gaze fell on the skin over Ririko's collarbone, on the pale pink hickey that had yet to fade completely.
Her eyes instantly hardened. "What are you doing here?"
Ririko feigned composure. "I'm a lab assistant now. What's wrong with me being in the corridor?"
Harley's eyes never left the hickey on her neck.
"You should be in your room."
Ririko's mind buzzed.
No one could have known she had been locked in her room-except the person who had locked her in.
"It was you. You locked me in my room."
Harley didn't deny it. She didn't even look embarrassed at being exposed.
Her voice grew cold and urgent. "I know Professor Strange came to see you. You have too much influence over him. I can't stand by and do nothing."
Ririko had always thought Harley was on her side.
An infatuation value of 22 wasn't high, but it meant Harley at least wouldn't hurt her.
But infatuation value and allegiance were two different things.
Someone could be infatuated with you and still lock you in a cage.
Someone could like you and still consider you a "hazard" that needed to be destroyed.
Between Arkham and Ririko, Harley had decisively chosen to preserve order at Arkham.
Ririko violently shook off Harley's hand.
"Are you planning to lock me back in a ward?"
Harley stared at her, a trace of madness flashing through her dark brown eyes.
"It's a shame, but the Tomie Organization is too dangerous. I won't let this experiment continue."
When she said "a shame," it didn't sound like an act. She sounded genuinely saddened by the impending destruction of an exquisite object.
Only then did Ririko truly understand: the most dangerous person in Arkham wasn't Hugo Strange. It was the woman standing before her!
Realizing she had misjudged Harley, she turned and ran.
But Harley was faster. She grabbed Ririko and refused to let go, and the two struggled in the corridor.
L-527-1340.
Ririko remembered that code.
She spotted Harley's ID card and seized her chance to yank it free.
But Harley reached out and tore away the gauze covering her left eye.
Ririko hadn't expected that move.
She looked up, exposing both her dark, seductively lustrous eyes to Harley.
Seeing that Ririko's left eye had completely healed, Harley froze.
What kind of monster is she?
Ririko seized the opportunity, shoved her away hard, and sprinted toward L Block.
She used Harley's ID card to open door after door. One, two... five.
The soles of her white canvas shoes squealed against the terrazzo floor. She ran toward the end of the corridor, toward the corner, toward the door she had pictured countless times-Building L, third floor, number 27.
She stopped in front of door 27 and swiftly entered 1340 into the lock.
The keypad gave a crisp, mechanical click.
She pushed the door open, and Gotham's wind rushed in.
This door led outside Arkham. Just one more step, and she could escape.
Unfortunately, she couldn't take that step. Beyond the door was a cliff.
Lush green treetops lay beneath the sheer drop. Whether there was a river or rocks below them, she had no way of knowing.
Harley's footsteps drew closer, each one a tick of the countdown.
Ririko stood at the edge of the cliff, her fingers gripping the iron door's icy handle.
The system flickered before her eyes... [Resurrection chances ×1].
If Harley caught her and took her back, she would become one of the things in those cylindrical tanks.
She would be submerged in pale yellow liquid forever, never dying and never being released.
"Then I'll die!" Ririko released the handle and leaped.
Behind her, Harley's voice rang out from the end of the corridor. "Ririko-don't-"
A black Aston Martin sped along the tree-lined road at the foot of the mountain.
Suddenly, a tremendous crash came from the roof.
Butch slammed on the brakes.
In the back seat, Oswald Cobblepot crashed hard into the seat in front of him.
Fortunately, the seat was upholstered in top-quality leather. His head wasn't split open, but blood poured from his nose.
"Butch! What the hell are you doing?"
Clutching his nose, Oswald wanted nothing more than to draw his gun and shoot the hulking Butch.
But he couldn't. He would lose his most capable fighter.
"Boss, look!"
Butch pointed at the windshield. Oswald looked up, and his breath caught!
Black hair spread across the glass like ink, blocking their view.
They opened the doors and got out.
"Holy shit!" Oswald saw a girl draped over the roof with her head hanging upside down. On her pale face, the tiny mole beneath her left eye was eerily striking.
He gripped his black umbrella, slammed its tip against the ground, and said to Butch:
"Arkham! They're absolutely outrageous! Throwing people out like garbage! Dropping things from up high!"
Butch was broad and burly, a full head taller than Oswald, and far calmer than his "boss."
He walked around the car and inspected it. The roof was wrecked, but the car was still drivable.
"Boss, are we still going to Arkham to settle things with Hugo?"
Oswald stared at him in disbelief. "With the car smashed up like this? How are we supposed to go?"
He had put on a respectable dark purple velvet suit today, intending to drive to Arkham and settle the score with Hugo-
The Jerome who had been delivered to him a few days ago was twitchy and utterly useless. Forget fighting-he couldn't even guard a door!
Butch didn't answer. He continued inspecting the girl who had fallen from the sky.
"What do we do with this woman, then? She seems to still be breathing."
Oswald folded his arms across his chest.
"Butch! Have you been single so long that even Arkham's garbage looks pretty to you?"
Butch pursed his lips. "She really is pretty."
Oswald narrowed his eyes, ready to say, "Are you sick in the head? Do you need a trip to Arkham?" But as he looked up and his gaze swept over her face, he swallowed the words.
That pale, upside-down face was so exquisite that it bore none of the marks this city should have left on it.
Though he rarely had dealings with women, she was clearly a first-rate beauty.
His shrewd mind immediately did the math:
Leave her in some mountain ditch to fend for herself, and the damage to the car is a total loss...
Take her back to work at the Iceberg Lounge, and she can earn back the repair costs...
If some lust-addled fool took a fancy to a woman of this caliber, he could even do the man a favor by "transferring" her to him and make a tidy sum on the deal.
Oswald looked away, straightened his crooked bow tie, and cleared his throat.
"The Iceberg Lounge is always short of waitresses... Take her back. Once she's earned back what the car cost me, find a hole and bury her."
Butch was long accustomed to his boss changing his tune faster than the weather.
He walked to the rear of the car, took a roll of waterproof sheeting from the trunk, and deftly lifted the woman off the roof, wrapped her up, and stuffed her into the trunk.
Oswald settled back into the car. Through the rearview mirror, his heavily shadowed eyes watched Butch shut the trunk.
The Aston Martin set off along the tree-lined road again. Ririko's body bounced gently in the trunk, making faint sounds.
Before you continue