toxicodendron_radicans | Harlequin Dreams

Harley backed a few things in her bag and happily skip after him, "Oh, don't run! Why don't we play some?!"

And now she was following him. Solo adventure sucks so much.

Paco ducked into one of the aisles, hoping it would provide some kind of cover.

Jaime was going to kill him. And then Jaime was going to let Brenda kill him.

All Ben was really looking for was a couple of things. Waller'd asked him to Texas here to look into something, which turned out to be nothing much at all.

So there he was with his stupid little grocery-store basket, trying to choose between the whole-wheat and the rye bread when he was plowed into by one of the other shoppers.

"HEY!" he said as he went down, the other guy went down, and Ben's basket went flying, spilling its contents everywhere.

"Tell me you're not crazy too." Paco blurted, before scrambling to his feet and hauling the other guy up. A part of him was wondering how the he'd managed to miss the whole everyone-but-the-stupid-kid leaving due to the crazy with the gun. "Nevermind, gotta get out of here before she finds us."

"Nope." he said, trying not to remember the times when he was quite literally out of his head.

"And I thought the store was a little quiet. Man, I really gotta start paying attention." he grumbled as he tried to gather his things together.

Great. The kid had stepped on his bag of cinnamon buns. Dammit!

Wait.

"She who?" he asked confusedly.

"Crazy gringa." Paco said shortly, trying to drag the guy along. "Has gun, will shoot you with fireworks."

The singed look that Paco was sporting certainly wasn't in vogue at the moment.

"So there's a whacked-out white girl with fireworks in here?" he said disbelievingly, not letting Paco pull him along.

"This I gotta see."

Which he would get to see. Harley skipped around the corner, humming the happy tree friend's theme song, the gun in her hand.

"Awww, you brought a friend!"

Ben went instantly from Ben Turner, Ordinary Guy Out Shopping to Bronze Tiger, international assassin and field-exec of the Suicide Squad.

A foot lashed out like lightning, kicking the gun out of Harl's hand and coming very close to breaking a few bones in her wrist at the same time. Only her superior flexibility and conditioning saved her hand.

It hurt like hell, but living with the Joker? You got used to pain. You expected pain, and you learned to roll with it. To the point where it took a lot to actually get Harley to stop what she was doing.

"You hit girls!" She shouted, and from her big purse, came an equally large mallet. Her grip wasn't as steady as it normally would be thanks to the wrist, but still, "I hit boys! Let's play!"

Harlequin Dreams

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