Barbara set her mug down and leaned back in the booth, watching Harley finish the last swallow of coffee. "So, where exactly do we need to go for this secret henchwoman hookup?"
Harley rested her elbows on the table, tapping her nails against the rim of her cup, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, it's not far. Just finish up your drinks, and I'll show you."
Pamela tilted her head, suspicious but intrigued. She drained her own mug in one long pull, wiped her lip with the back of her hand, and said flatly, "Lead the way."
Outside, the cool Gotham air pressed against their faces, laced with car exhaust and the faint tang of wet brick from the previous night's rain. Barbara stretched her arms, glancing at Harley. "Should we drive?"
Harley waved her hand dismissively as she started down the sidewalk. "Nah. Two blocks north. Trust me—it's worth the stroll."
Pamela tightened her duffel strap over her shoulder and followed. Barbara fell into step beside her, the three of them weaving past storefronts until Harley stopped in front of a run-down dealership.
The sign above was painted in garish reds and yellows, chipped but still loud: Cars R Us – Full Service Since 1972.
Barbara's eyes narrowed as she read it. "Wait a second. Pamela… this is the same place we bought our car."
Pamela crossed her arms. "You dragged us to a car lot? We're looking for henchwomen, Harley."
Harley turned to face them, exasperated. "What part of 'full service' don't you understand?"
It took both Barbara and Pamela a beat to put it together. When they did, they blinked at the same time.
"Oh."
Harley grinned. "Exactly. Full service. Weapons, cars, contracts, mercenaries, accountants—you name it. A one-stop shop for anyone serious about villainy."
Pamela arched a brow, impressed despite herself. "That explains why the Bat hasn't shut this place down yet. Too obvious."
Inside, the ding of a bell echoed as they pushed through the glass doors. The salesman who had sold them their junker weeks ago looked up from his desk, froze, then quickly ducked into his cubicle as if hiding from them. Barbara caught Pamela's eye and the two shared a knowing look.
Harley strode past the desks without pause, leading them down a hallway lined with vending machines. She stopped at a plain supply closet, looked back over her shoulder, and whispered, "Come on. Don't worry—it's not just mop buckets."
Pamela hesitated. "If this is a prank…"
Harley's grin softened into seriousness. "Please. I don't do jokes anymore. Jokes are for clowns."
They filed into the cramped closet. Cleaning supplies crowded the shelves. A mop leaned against the wall, and a dented bucket held a faded wooden baseball bat. Harley checked the hall, then pulled the door shut firmly.
Barbara glanced around the clutter. "So what now? We wait for janitorial enlightenment?"
Harley tapped the bat with her finger. "See that? Put your hand on it, turn it ninety degrees to the right."
Pamela eyed it warily. "This isn't going to trigger an acid spray, is it?"
Harley crossed her arms. "Do I look like Joker to you?"
Barbara muttered under her breath, "She's got a point."
With a sigh, Pamela grasped the bat and twisted. Immediately, the floor rumbled. The entire closet shuddered, then began to sink like a freight elevator, leaving the walls intact as they dropped lower and lower.
Barbara's eyes widened. "Holy shit. The whole closet's a lift?"
"Exactly." Harley beamed with pride. "An old freight system, converted. And guess what? The Bat never found it. Why? Because he avoids anything named after bats that isn't a bat."
Pamela frowned in thought. "Deep trauma."
"Exactly." Harley leaned casually against the wall as the floor groaned beneath them. "We're all nuts in this city. Batman's just the nut who hides it under a cape."
Barbara laughed once, dry. "I've been kidnapped seven times. It does things to you."
Pamela's voice was low and matter-of-fact. "Sedated. Mutated. Four separate abductions. I stopped counting the bruises."
Harley tilted her head, almost sympathetic. "You two had it worse than me. I threw myself into chemicals because I was in love voluntary stupidity."
Barbara shook her head. "Yeah, Harley. Real easy life."
Harley chuckled. "Still, I'm crazy enough to stick with you girls. That's what matters."
Barbara's cheeks warmed faintly. She muttered, "At least I didn't fall in love with one of my kidnappers."
Harley laughed louder this time. "Please. You'd fall in love with the person chained up next to you. Just like you did with Pamela."
Barbara flushed, lowering her eyes. "I know I've got an unhealthy dependency on her."
Pamela's lips curved, her voice steady. "Damn right you do."
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