"Hmm, her living conditions were clearly worse than mine."
Rewinding a little, Cloak had dropped Harley in front of an old apartment building. Its structure resembled the red-brick houses of Brooklyn, New York—a set of steps led up to a narrow entrance, with a small hall on each floor. There were usually three stories and a basement.
She had found her advantage again: she was obviously richer than this version of herself.
"If only Kitty were here." Biting her tongue with the corner of her lips, she pulled out a hairpin to pick the lock. She did know a little about this trade, but she was clearly nowhere near as skilled as Catwoman, a professional thief.
Thinking of Catwoman's corpse, Harley put on a proper sigh, then began imitating Catwoman's expression whenever she picked a lock. Her eyes widened like bells as she pressed an ear to the door and listened carefully.
The friction of the lock spring and tumblers was fairly clear. She easily picked the door open, then silently thanked Kitty's spirit in heaven for its blessing before slipping into the house with a grin.
The room was pitch-black. She even looked up at the doorframe, and when she found neither a bomb nor a bag of flour, she pursed her lips in disappointment.
"What the heck? This version of me is so boring. She didn't even set traps by the door. Is this really Harley?" She began commenting to herself, mentally criticizing everything from the room's layout to its furniture choices.
Then she heard breathing on the stairs. Looking up, she saw four green points staring at her in the darkness.
The breathing was extremely heavy, nothing like a human's. Unless they were two dwarf-sized versions of Bane, they had to be—
Two shadows pounced out of