Harley Quinn (Harleen Frances Quinzel) személy
Harley slowed down and paced alongside Katana.
“I’m thinking the good guys probably pay better than my guy. So, what does a superhero make, anyway?”
Silent, Katana kept walking.
“Oh, c’mon, K. It’s not a big deal,” Harley persisted. “You getting a grand a week? Two? Five? Don’t tell me you get more?”
Katana glared at her. “Move, or my sword will take your soul.”
“Well, K, you’re out of freakin’ luck. I lost my soul along with my virginity. Look, we’re both babes, right? On the same side, chromosomally speaking. I thought maybe…”
“You thought wrong. We’re not on the same side. We’ll never be on the same side.”
“Mr. J used to say the same thing. Now we’re closer than nipples on a pig. You and me, it could still happen. So give me a ballpark. They pay you by the fight, or you under contract? What about medical? I gotta say, this job isn’t that good on the ol’ skull and bones.”
Katana stopped in her tracks and grabbed Harley by the throat.
“One does not get paid to do what is right.” She pushed Harley back to the road. “Now shut up and walk, or I’ll see to it you won’t have any feet to walk on.”
“Hey, no problem, K. I get it. You’re embarrassed they don’t pay you. But I understand. Mr. J doesn’t pay me, either. So, between us chicks, you think that’s ’cause we’re minions, or is it the girl thing?”
“So. You ever been in love?”
“No.” Deadshot shook his head. “Never.”
This time she laughed at him. “Bullshit.”
He walked to the edge of the landing and looked down, away from her.
“You don’t kill as many people as I do and sleep like a kitten at night if you feel love or empathy.”
“Hooray. I’m back!”
As they exited the Federal Building, Harley sat on the hood of a Beemer, looking beat-up beautiful.
“I missed you guys sooo much.”
She was smiling at them, but Deadshot could tell the grin was forced. Grime clung to her face where there had been tears.
“Aren’t you dead?” Croc said.
“I got better,” she replied. “These things happen, you know.”
Deadshot gave her a thumbs up. “Well, I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad you made it,” he said, offering his hand to help her off the car.
She took it and slid to the pavement.
“So who are we supposed to kill now?” She leaned close to Deadshot and talked to him in a stage whisper for everyone to hear. “Tell me it’s him,” she said, theatrically pointing at Flag, who was staring back at her.
“You’re hilarious, Quinn,” the colonel said.
She curtsied then danced off, joining the others.
“That’s exactly what Mister J always tells me.”
“Hey, Craziness!” the deep voice called to her. She turned, catching the baseball cap Boomer tossed to her. She laughed as she dropped it on her head and thumbed it to a sexy tilt.
Like it or not, she was one of the guys.
“I’m betting he’s a Bloody Mary man. Emphasis on the blood, and a whole side of Mary.”
Croc shook his head. “Nothing for me. Drink dulls the mind.”
“Precisely, my giant alligator pal,” Deadshot said, gesturing for Harley to fill his glass up again. “You really want a sharp mind going after those things we saw? The duller the better for me.”
Croc stared at him, then shrugged. “Okay. Beer.”
Boomer clapped his hands and gave a whoop. “There he is. A man after my own heart. Don’t take that literally. Sweet-lips, pour the big guy a Gurgle’s. No. Make that five.”
Harley turned to Diablo. He interrupted her before she got a chance to guess.
“Says the man who can set the world on fire. Good idea, honey.”
Croc raised his glass. “To the bad guys. You know, I never think of myself as a bad guy. I just got needs that others don’t always agree with.”
“That is so true,” Harley added. “It’s all perspective. Say you got people attacking the government, they’ll be treated like terrorists. Unless you’re the American revolution, and suddenly you’re rag-tag patriots.”
Croc agreed. “Or you’re in Star Wars and you’re the rebel alliance.”
“You got it, Wally Gator,” Harley added. “Good and bad, they change depending on who’s writing the history books.
Harley Quinn: Hee… That's so cute. You think you're scary. But mister, I've seen scary. And you ain't got his smile… Oh, and Scarecrow called. He wants his laundry back.
Harley Quinn: It hurts, but I've been hurt worse… by him.
Harley Quinn: I miss you, Joker. And I'm gonna prove, that I deserve you. Show you what I can do. Every lawyer who put you away, I'll dance with every one, puddin'. I'll pile them so high you'll have to notice me.
Deadshot: Rely on anyone but yourself and you're dead. It's why I never work as part of a team. Or at least I didn't until I was drafted on to the Suicide Squad. Supervillains recruited from prison, sent on covert missions and injected with a nanite bomb so we stay in line. A bad deal. And my teammates are worse – amateur. Wild card. Hero. And Cuckoo For Cocoa Puffs.