Adult-FanFiction.org : Comics

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
- 7
- 8
- 9
7
I’m sitting outside in my parked car staring straight ahead at the dilapidated twenty-story apartment building. It’s face, which must have once been white, has turned brown from filth and years of neglect. The railings on the stairs and bars on the windows are corroding; the disintegrating metal has left trails of copper colored stains bleeding down the walls. Covering my mouth I push farther back into the driver’s seat and bring the little purple note up to my face. I check the address and then leaning over I check my GPS again.
1018 High Meadow Court, Apt#201
Gotham City, New Jersey
18725
They match. I sag back into my chair and drum my fingers on the steering wheel nervously. The long arm of the law doesn’t reach very far here and neither do government officials; this part of town belongs to the thugs and the misfits. This is a dangerous place to be.
I realize Joker could be luring me into a trap, it’s very likely; but I doubt it. At least not a trap that would kill, it wouldn’t make sense. He’s had more than enough opportunity and yet here I am. No, I believe that Quincy is here… in this horrible place. Squeezing the steering wheel, I take one last deep breath and get out of my car. I make my way through the dimly lit courtyard, maneuvering through debris and puddles of stagnant water. When I reach the entrance I push the door tentatively expecting it to be locked, but it sways all the way open and I am immediately smacked with the horrendous smell of latrine and decay. I gag, placing my hand on my mouth I make my way up the stairs at the entrance to the second floor.
I walk down the hall until I spot the faded numbers 201 marked on a door. I stop unable to move. He abandoned me, just like my father and just like Dylan. They all abandoned me in one way or another. I looked for Quincy when I was in university; I tried everything I could think of. I contacted the cops, I hired detectives, I looked online, joined websites and I was in contact with at least a dozen organizations. Gone, he’d disappeared off the face of the planet. I thought he was dead. Squeezing my fist shut I knock on the door. I feel the sweat pouring down my back. I wait a few seconds and nothing happens so I knock again. When no one responds the second time, I try the handle and it’s open. I push the door but it jams part way and I need press my weight into it so I can squeeze in.
“Hello?” There is a lot of trash on the floor and the squalor in here is just as bad as outside. I hear stumbling behind me and I turn around, my heart racing with a mixture of fear and anticipation. I see a blond man standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his brown eyes dull. He’s watching me blankly. His greasy hair is sticking to his skull and lines of scabs run down his gaunt cheeks. My stomach lurches and tears prick my eyes because I can see him underneath it all. I can see my big brother.
“Quincy? It’s Harleen.” I barely manage, but it’s enough to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.
“Harleen?” He says disbelieving “ Am I still… Are you… Is this real?” he mutters. I nod at him. He rushes towards me and when he wraps his arms around me the tears start to flow freely down my cheeks. He reeks.
“No one has called me that in so long. It’s good to see you.” I pull back, uncertain if I feel the same and lost for words. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” is all I can muster. When he stretches his parched lips at me in a smile all I see are his red swollen gums and the few remaining teeth black with rot. I feel myself crack open; I know I can’t be here anymore. I rush out the door but before I can make it, I feel Quincy tug at my arm. I ignore him. I run through the hall, down the stairs and out the front door; I don’t stop running until I reach my car. I throw up, gasping, crying, angry, helpless and suddenly very aware of how alone I am.
When the dry heaving stops I drive aimlessly around Gotham watching the lively Saturday afternoon crowds from the solitude of my car. I keep driving and when I finally stop it’s 9pm and I’m outside Arkham Asylum. I don’t know what exactly I’m doing here, but my feet know where they are going so I let them go. I walk past security that let me in with no questions asked. Most of the cameras in the staff rooms and the cell halls don’t work so I don’t worry as I sneak by the orderlies’ station and pinch a set of keys. Still on autopilot I make my way down the hall to room #0801; I unlock the door and I walk in.
The room is dim, but there is a tiny light on in the corner of the ceiling just above the cot. Joker is sitting there with his back against the wall, both bare feet up on the cot, thighs up in front of his chest and his arms resting on his knees. His head doesn’t move but I feel my skin light up when his sharp blue eyes settle on me. We’re immobile, each of us observing the other, scouring faces and bodies for some clue as to what will happen next. Much like the first time we met, I’m struck by the predatory intelligence glimmering in his eyes and a blossom of excitement spreads through me; followed very quickly by fury.
Pushing off the wall I stride to him, pull my hand back and swing. The crack of the slap echoes in the room. I pull my hand back for a second one but he’s too fast and his pale hand grips my wrist with such bruising force that I clutch helplessly at it. He moves to his knees and brings the index finger of his free hand up to my face.
“You get one of those for free darlin’, the next one is gonna cost ya.” Then he jerks my wrist at an angle so my only two options are to sit down or let him snap it. I yelp and sit on the cot beside him.
“Why are you here Harleen?” He asks calmly.
“You sent me there. You bastard, you knew! You knew what I’d find and you s-s-s“ The tears are coming again and I stop talking so I can keep them at bay.
“That’s not why you are here.” He says it like he’s so sure, like he’s known all along that we’d end up here and he has all the answers.
I begin to insist stubbornly but I’m distracted by his free hand moving up to grasps my jaw; he uses it to turn my face sideways. He examines the bruise left by Szasz on my cheek; he caresses it softly with his thumb then digs his fingers harshly into my skin.
“Let’s talk about Lila and Matt, Harleen.” he leans over and kisses the bruise and I feel the heat from it spread down my neck.
“What?” I ask perplexed, for a second I don’t even know what he’s talking about. Then I remember “No.” I say.
“Yes.” He replies simply “I know pumpkin.” he moves closer to me lodging a knee under my right thigh and pressing it to the side.
“No, stop.” I whisper not sure if I meant his leg as well or just his words. He shifts pressing me down on the cot and moving my captured wrist over my head. Instinctively I place my other hand on his side as my eyes roam his body cataloguing his tattoos; the aces on his neck, Joker written along his abs, ‘hahaha’ on his left pectoral and the tattoos on his arms. I feel my stomach muscles clench “No, stop.” I say again pushing on his side.
“Do you know he blacked out when you hit him?” he drops his weight on my body “Lila tried to get you off.”
“S-sto” I try to talk but he rolls his hips forward sending sparks through my body. “Lila was terrified of you after, they both were. Can you tell me why it happened?”
“No.” I repeat and push his ribs away again, which he responds to with another roll of his hips, it’s firmer this time. I can feel the hardness of him growing in his nylon pants. “You went to her home” hip roll “hid in the shadows’ hip roll ‘ and attacked her boyfriend.’ hip roll.
“No! Stop!” I struggle mindlessly forgetting all my training, a few tears leak down the sides of my face. “I didn’t mean to… I-” His length is insistent between my legs and I struggle not to rub against it; he ends the struggle when he grinds it right where the heat has started. I whimper.
“Aaah…” he groans in response and my heart flutters “He had a concussion. He was probably bleeding all over the floor.“
This needs to stop.
“There was probably a lot of screaming… maybe a few ‘please don’ts’.” Waves of pleasure are fogging my brain.
I can’t listen to this.
“Did they call you na-“
“She was mine!” I yell. He continues the movement of his hips, letting go of my wrist he brings his hand down to my hip, “She was all I had left. Quincy left me, mum was a disaster, and dad… dad.” I burst into tears “I was alone and he took her from me.”
Gripping his shoulders I sob, “I’m still alone.” I look up into his eyes, those horribly knowing eyes; he had figured this out already “I came here because I am alone.”
“Good girl.” He strokes my cheek, then he repositions us so I’m sitting across his lap, head on his shoulder and his arm cradling my back. I miss his weight on top of me but I snuggle in anyway.
“Shh pumpkin pie, daddy’s got you now.” He whispers to me “You aren’t alone anymore.” I feel something seep into me then, filling up the crack that had splintered open at my brother’s apartment and cocooning me in warmth.
The throb in my cock is still there pushing up against her bottom. Her breathing has slowed down but I can still feel the trickle of tears slipping down my shoulder. I wasn’t expecting her to show up here but I knew what had happened as soon as she did. I could see it in her eyes; she’d gone to see her long lost brother Quincy. What millions of things she must have imagined him as. A doctor? A lawyer? A police officer? Instead she got reality (what a tragedy), fiction is so much better than - a pleasant tingling sensation interrupts my thoughts. It’s moving along the side of my head backwards. I move my head away and look at Harleen; she was running her fingers through my hair.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes come to mine then go back to my hair and she runs her fingers through it again.
“Why green?” She asks.
“Just lucky I guess.” I say blandly.
Her eyebrows lift up “It’s natural? That’s not possible.”
“No, not usually.” She looks at it a little longer then away, a blush covering her cheeks. I know immediately where her mind’s gone “Yes, the carpet matches the drapes darlin’.” I grin at her.
“Oh.” Her blush turns a deep red. “I got your MRI results back.” It’s an obvious attempt to change the subject but, feeling grudgingly lenient, I indulge her.
“Ah, yes the MRI... And?” I ask not really interested at all.
“You’re not a psychopath, not by definition anyway.” She states as if a great revelation has been made.
“Mmm.”
She searches my face as if looking for more then inches her way off of my lap. My dick doesn’t like that but I ignore it. “That’s all I’m getting?” Her eyes are bright.
My dear Harleen is obviously excited about my results; I roll my eyes. Psychiatrists, they all think psychosis is a disease thrust upon mankind; they think madness is something to be cured. They are missing the point (and the punch line): reality is the disease and ‘madness’ is the cure. Feeling a bitterness rising in me I brush a strand of hair behind her ear then drop my hand to her neck; I just rest it there, I don’t squeeze.
“I think we need to talk about your father Harleen.” The brightness in her eyes fizzles out and I feel her body try to pull out of my grasp. I apply pressure to her throat and I don’t let go.
“No, please not again.” She grabs my wrist and I squeeze tighter (if she’s talking, she’s still breathing).
“Mmm, I don’t blame you pumpkin’. Remembering can be such a horrible thing. Believe me, I know. All those ghastly little secrets you’ve worked so hard to forget are just waiting for you to take a stroll down Memory Lane.” Her eyes are wide, brimming once again with tears; I stroke her cheek.
“Don’t worry, daddy will be with you the whole way.” She shakes her head at me and manages to dislodge her throat from my hand. I let her go following her closely as she gets off the cot.
“I don’t want to talk about my f-”
“You’re in denial Harleen.” The tears are coming down her face freely again “I don’t think I’m crazy, but you know maybe I am. Maybe. But if shutting my eyes to the truth is what it takes to remain sane then I want no part in it.” She’s backing away from me, trying to move inconspicuously to the door. “Open your eyes darlin’. Too much sanity is madness! You know what’s even madder?”
She shakes her head at me eyes wide “Seeing the world as it should be and refusing to see it as it is!”
I lunge for her. Instead of jumping back as I expected her to do, she moves forward and knees me right in the groin. The sharp pain shoots upward from my balls and explodes in the pit of my stomach. I crouch over and start laughing. I hear the door open and slam shut.
“Come back here!” I move to the door and put my forehead against it. Exhaling, I grab my throbbing balls “This conversation isn’t over Harleen! Harleen? Harley!”
I put my back against the door and slide all the way to the floor; I keep my knees apart to keep pressure of my nuts.
I really do like that woman.
- 7
- 8
- 9
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel