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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel	By : Risen86 Category: DC Verse Comics > Suicide Squad Views: 6735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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20
I'm back... phew! Sorry for the reeeaaallly long delay! Also Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone who celebrates & Best Wishes to everybody else! I will warn that I haven't yet proofread so apologies in advance. I will proofread in soon. Enjoy!
Harley
I could feel the sweat tickling down the back of my neck and I reach up to wipe it away, the motion captures Joker's attention briefly. His glazed eyes came quickly over to me flickering with mockery, daring me to leave. I bring my hand back down, ball them both into fists and meet his gaze unwavering.
I'm not looking away and I'm not leaving.
I will the thought into my glare; I know, when he stretches his neck out and forcibly twists the knife sticking out of Gordon's shoulder, that my message came across clearly. The commissioner's scream echoes, which thoroughly amuses puddin' and leaves my hands trembling.
"Hand me that bag'o'fun will you darlin'?" He purrs to me from over the commissioner's shoulder. Silently I hand over my backpack; I watch him rummage through it then carelessly throw vials and bottles of drugs on the ground.
"No…" crash, "No…" crash, "Nope…" crash, "Ohhh fun" he pulls out a bottle of Paxil pills, an antidepressant with the leading side effect of causing suicide attempts in youth, and shows it to the commissioner then shrugs "but no." It crashes on the floor with the others.
He digs through the bag a bit more and pulls a vial out "AHA!"
He'd given me an extremely precise list when he told me what he wanted of me; it included drug names, the number of bottles required, the number of pills per bottle and a list of injectable drugs. I was baffled when he wrote the list out right in front of me; despite how precise he was the variety of drugs was large enough that it seemed somewhat arbitrary. Whether or not that was the case didn't matter. He asked me to prove my devotion to him and I would.
Whatdid matter, what did stick out was that he was able to list over 30 drugs, off the top of his head, using their generic names and not their brand names. I couldn't list 30 generic drug names off the top of my head and I prescribe the damn things. It got my mind working about who he had been before he became Joker. When he'd told me about his past in Arkham, he'd just given me broad strokes and when he did share details they were always of unnamed parents, unspecified places or vague memories of faceless people.
I never got his birth name, his age or any confirmation of where he was born and raised. He confirmed what I had already suspected, that he'd received a higher education, but he never told me his field of study. The ease with which he'd pulled that list from thin air told me, it had to be the sciences. Maybe Chemistry. Maybe biology. Although, in reality, this was not the greatest of revelations, because his past is still such a mystery to me, it felt like a 'EUREKA' moment.
I watch him now as he walks over to the side of the room and picks a syringe up from one of the steel tables. He tilts the vial upside down, injects the needle through the seal and aspirates the drug. The process is completed with such practiced ease and such a clinical way that I can practically see him in scrubs right before my eyes. He carefully places the empty vial on the table and, when his malicious blue eyes meet mine, the image of the stranger in scrubs, the man that may have been, shatters and is replaced with Joker. My puddin'.
Inching closer to the table I peek at the drug he'd used, 'sodium thiopental' better known as Pentothal; a drug that has been used by some organizations as a truth serum.
Up until now the commissioner has been managing his pain and Mr. J's presence in stony silence, but as puddin' gets closer I can see his mask waver.
"What is that?" Gordon's voice falters as puddin' stands directly in his field of vision and expertly pushes the plunger to get any air out of the syringe.
Gordon struggle helplessly in his seat as Mr. J makes a show of jabbing the needle into his neck and pushing the liquid out." Just something to help you with the lead tongue."
Gordon's whole body jolts causing a healthy chuckle from Mr. J "Oh, I'm sorry Gordy, did that hurt?" he places his hand over the area that he'd just plunged the needle into, "Here, let me help with that." He uses that same hand to deliver a resounding backhand.
He moves away from Gordon and begins to make his way towards me "Let's just give that a few seconds sink in hmm, Gordy?"
"I'm going to need something else from you, Doctor…" I watch as he walks away from the commissioner and stalks over to me. My heart skips a beat as I take in the sway in his movements and the devious glint in his eyes.
"Aah my little wallflower", he mumbles as he passes his hand over my shoulder, down my arm and when his hand reaches mine I intertwine our fingers together. His fingers flex convulsively around mine then he grips my hand and guides it to the wall behind me.
He moves up against me until my bust presses against his hard chest and I have to crane my neck to look up into his eyes. Strands of his emerald hair have fallen down to the sides of his face and I reach up to push his them in place when he starts walking me back into the wall. There is a warm burst of butterflies in my belly and I can't take my eyes off him while he presses my back and hand against the cool tiles behind me. My hand is dragged down until it connects with something cylindrical and he closes my fingers around it.
My chest is heaving against his and I can feel the length of him growing against my hip, "I have no need for wallflowers." He kisses me and when my free hand moves up the side of his chest to pull him closer he groans into the kiss and turns away.
I look down to my hand and my stomach sinks because my fingers are curled around the grip of my bat and I know exactly what he wants me to do with it.
"No, I can't." I blurt the words out before I can control it.
"No?" Mr. J's eyes widen and his voice drops comically even as a grin breaks across his face.
I lick my lips and look down at the bat and over to the commissioner; why didn't I think this would happen? How could I not see it coming when I walked into this room and saw the commissioner tied to a chair? How didn't I think he'd make this as difficult as possible for me?
"I can't – I've never- and I don't even know why." I shake my head in denial; sure I've fought people off and I'll do whatever it takes to keep my puddin' safe but Gordon's helpless. I focus on Gordon; his head has flopped down and to the side, his previously tense limbs have turned limp and the little movement he can make is clumsy. The drug is kicking in.
Mr. J rolls his eyes "Oh please, don't play coy with me now." his gaze moves lasciviously up my body "Why doesn't matter I've witnessed your brand of crazy. I'm simply requesting for an encore."
My heart flutters at the look of lust on his face and a cold hand crawls up my belly towards my chest.
Mr J. stares me in the eyes; he doesn't need to ask me the question it's hanging between us in the air like an invisible curtain.
Don't you love him Harl? I start at the question and whirl around to look over my shoulder thinking maybe it came from behind me… there is no one there. Do it! Do it! The cold hand fists around my heart and all the reservations I have crumble away.
I can feel Mr. J's eyes on me as I take a few steadying breaths then standing to the side of Gordon I bring the bat down on his arm.
Gordon groans and mumbles something but Mr. J's giggling drowns his voice out. "Come on Harley…put some effort into it!"
Taking another deep breath I do what I'm told and this time when I bring the bat down the jarring impact vibrates through my hands.
The commissioner screams in pain; when my hands start to shake I look over at Mr. J for reassurance and his smile is enough to give me the warm fuzzies.
"Where is he?" Mr. J questions the commissioner; I swing the bat again this time connecting with the commissioner's chest and the sweat, previously just on the back of my neck, beads on my face and body. There is some wheezing but Gordon shakes his head, "I d-don't care what you do! I'll never tell you where he is!"
Obviously the drugs haven't taken full affect yet, stealing myself for another swing I bring the bat down on a knee and the cracking sound makes me dry heave.
"Mr. J-"
"Not Now!" he barks at me but moves closer and puts an encouraging hand on the small of my back "Where is he?" I bring the bat down again while I struggle to keep my gagging at bay and the tears start spilling down my cheeks.
He's not forcing you, what you whining about? Pussy! I jerk away and look behind me again thinking the question came from there.
"I won't tell you where Robin is!" The commissioner screams. I glance over at Mr. J, his cold eyes round from disbelief and his smile growing ever more ruthless.
"I'm sorry commissioner I may be going deaf in my advancing age, did you just say Robin? … You won't tell me where Robin is?"
A look of despair comes over the commissioner's face and puddin' falls into a fit of jubilant laughter.
Joker
Believe it or not ladies and gentlemen kidnapping commissioner Gordon was not originally part of my plan but, when I saw him lying there like a roofied college student, I couldn't help getting my rocks off (I'm just opportunistic that way).
I giggle excitedly and glance at Harley sitting quietly in the passenger seat beside me. Her hands and shirt are speckled with blood; her eyes wide and her lips are turned down in a frown (that won't do). She'd been a very good girl after all; she'd done exactly what I'd wanted of her despite her obvious distress. All I'd wanted was the location of my rat; I'd been positively ecstatic at the revelation that Gordon had Robin's whereabouts and when we'd gotten it out him (tragically easy to do btw) she'd just wanted to go home (party pooper).
I turn the car off in front of her house and lean towards her, placing a hand on her thigh I grip her shirt with the other and pull her forward for a kiss. She resists at first, her lips rigid against mine but after a bit of coercing they soften and her tongue strokes mine (that's better). I groan into her but then she pushes me away, studies my face briefly, gets out in a rush and hurries towards her front door.
I lean back in the seat as something strange grows in the pit of my gut; it moves up into my chest then to my throat where it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth (the hell is that?). I swallow but the bitter taste (of rejection) doesn't go away; starting the car angrily I get ready to speed off when a muffled yell jerks my attention back to the house; I smirk (die bitch die). I put the car into gear and another yell comes through, my smirk wavers and I roll my eyes. I grudgingly put the car into park, turn off the ignition, slam the door and stalk into the house after her.
"If you aren't dying bitch, I'll kill you myself…"
I walk into the house and take in the disaster of the sitting room; couches overturned, television destroyed, papers strewn on the floor and tables broken (looks like a good time).
"No st-" I hear from the bedroom.
"It didn't have to be this way you snooty bitch!" I feel the smirk fall from my face.
"Give me your fucking wallet or I will shoot you in the face." A stick up (unbelievable); I roll my eyes. A grumble comes from my throat as I pull my gun out of its holster. I nudge the door to the bedroom open and see her sitting at the edge of her bed, eyes wide with fear (god that look) and hands up defensively.
Now we all know I'm not the rescuing type; in fact I'm more of the leave her to die (preferably in a cruel and usual way) kind of guy but I fucked her in that spot!Now this pathetic jackass has her (in that spot) staring up at him like he's some god (the gall)? I kick the door open and letting it bang loudly against the wall.
They both jerk and he whirls around to look at me.
"Quincy please." Begging, she's begging him!
I feel the anger like a cold fist in my gut "Shut up!" I snap at her.
"I will shoot her! I will fuck-"
I roll my eyes at him, lift my gun hand up and fire; it's a perfect headshot, his whole body jerks back splattering blood all around him including Harley face (well that's attractive).
"Um…" Harley mumbles, eyes wider than before as they move over her dead brother.
"Um…" she looks over at me.
"That's how you do murder." I smirk at her. She giggles with a look of shocked amusement then, when she wipes away a trickle of blood from her face the laughter turns into a sob and the tears start (urgh women).
"Alright, Alright. Com'ere, come to daddy." I gesture her over and she stumbles as she rushes into my arms. I pet her hair as the sobs rack her body and her tears seep into my shirt, "Mr. J? I-I think I'm gonna be sick."
She barely gives me enough warning to back away before she leans over and pukes all over the floor and my Fendi shoes (charming).
"I'm s-so s-sorry…", She croaks still staring down at my blemished shoes.
"Eh… " I shrug "I prefer going barefoot anyway." She laughs at that.
"Has anybody ever told you that you're really weird?"
"Nope." I smirk "They're usually too busy screaming or dying." She laughs then her face turns a very interesting shade of green before she leans over again. I sigh dramatically and rolling my eyes (for the umpteenth, time I know) I tolerantly pull her hair away from her face.
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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel