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Contrary to popular belief and general ignorant misconception, Rick knows it’s possible to see and understand where someone else was coming from, and still not agree with them.
That is the case when he and the rest of the world watches with a heavy heart as the Justice League jettisons up and away out of the atmosphere, while a humanoid alien proclaiming to be their new leader, and his army moves in.
Their retreat might be tactile, since the mind-controlling alien mainly known as Brainiac, would conquer the entirety of Earth ten times quicker with the Justice League at his disposal, but the abandonment still stings.
Because it is abandonment.
They won’t fight or return until they had a plan, and no matter if the Justice League had some of the world’s brightest minds, mightiest heroes, and even the world’s greatest detective;
It is entirely possible they never find a way to stop Brainiac - especially as his power and army grew in their absence.
Everyone knows he isn’t one to cut and run, and tactile retreats aren’t something he takes lightly, then again, he wonders if that is born from the fact Waller rarely allowed it as an option.
And this? An alien invasion threatening to take over life as he knew it?
Well, even if he wasn’t bound by the oath he’d taken when he decided to serve his country, he’d still rather die fighting if it meant a chance at saving others from the perilous fate of tyranny or death.
So he looks to Waller, knowing the government already was as well, because if the heroes weren’t fighting, the so-called villains would have to.
Task Force X would have to.
But to his surprise, Waller had something slightly different in mind.
At least in the matter of teams and how they would divvy up.
It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be fighting, rather he wouldn’t be fighting directly with Task Force X.
No, Waller was adamant he direct a normal troop of soldiers and A.R.G.U.S agents, providing support for the Suicide Squad by:
Unlocking Terminaut Data Cache’s, breaking into highly secured facilities such as S.T.A.R labs and the Hall of Justice to stockpile supplies and create bases, and then form alliances with people on the outside such as Oswald Cobblepot who would hopefully offer his services in turn.
Task Force X, while usually having a de facto leader in the team other than him, would be going without their Colonel.
There’d be crossroads where they’d meet up, exchanging weapons and tools.
He’d enlist their help if something got too out of hard for the soldiers he was provided, but otherwise…taking down Braniac with the rest of the Suicide Squad wasn’t his objective.
Waller gives him a look that tells him he didn’t have a say in the matter before he could even protest.
No doubt she knew by now - no matter how much he’d tried to hide it - that there was more than one reason he didn’t want to be without the Suicide Squad.
Including his stubborn want to do all that he can, which he knew to be more than just active support.
It has to do with the Clown Queen of crime.
Harley more often than not, being a valued member of the team, was utilized in such dire situations due to her intellect and utter lack of fear in going face to face with the end of the world.
And following that theme, there is her name along with three others who Waller had deemed the front runners of this fight with Brainiac.
Floyd Lawton, Harleen Quinzel, George “Digger” Harkness, and Nanaue.
If Rick’s entirely honest, he doesn’t know where Waller got the idea that those four in particular needed to be the ones fighting face to face with who intel now read as: Vril Dox.
For a moment, he believes this is because of those moments between and even on missions, he and Harley had gotten too close.
He could see it all too clearly, Waller stooping to this power play in the same way she had with June so her commands would be considered Holy Writ.
Except, the woman was incapable of keeping her ego in check, if she really wanted to hold Harley over his head, she would have said.
Then again, he was no longer threatening to leave. That red three of diamonds she could simply be holding to her chest until there was something his stubborn ass wouldn’t budge on.
It’s not a comforting thought as the doors open and he looks towards them, eyes instinctually landing on Harley, who was being led in with the rest of her team.
And he did mean her team, because Deadshot wasn’t going to be the de facto leader as he had been when they fought the Enchantress.
Harley’s jester cap had been in the metaphorical ring longer than he’d known or expected, and now her cards been pulled.
Instantly her eyes find him, sparkling and bright as she gives him that giddy salute she always does.
It of course not passing his notice as she does so, that her fingers momentarily point up towards her hair.
It following the black and red aesthetic she’d originally donned when first starting out at Harley Quinn, and then floated away from for a time with her bubblegum pink and baby blue pigtails.
There’s no inkling of the acid bleach blonde hair Ace chemicals had left her with, merely an even split of red and black down the middle, and her pigtails riding a bit higher and further back so the hanging tresses framed her face alongside the side curtains that were her bangs.
She looked good, but Rick can’t name a time, even when she was in prison attire, that she didn’t.
And he’d seen her in the same way she’d seen him in rough places, disheveled, covered in things like dirt, sweat, and blood.
Now, surprisingly, in a way that takes him off guard, she nor the rest of the Squad - not that Nanaue wore prison clothes - were absent of bland beige or bright orange suits stamped with the words INMATE or BELLE REVE.
They’d been suited up in their own attires, Harley’s as usual not terribly preferable for genuine battle with the amount of skin showing, but she’d clearly chosen it to mimic her roller derby uniform.
A red and black split pattern, bulletproof corset with a choker neckline encrusted with a diamond pattern, both the sides holding a star or diamond of the opposing color on the chest.
Similar shorts sat on her hips, though they were reversed, although the star and diamond decals were now on the sides rather than the front.
Her knee high sock and shoes follow this alternating pattern, and to top it all off is the accessories.
Fuzzy little black and red pom poms tied along the tops of her shoe laces, customized knee and elbow pads along with one for her right shoulder.
Her legs - the parts unprotected by her shorts - are vaguely covered by the thick straps of leather holsters, and tying it all together is a thick utility belt marked by a skull belt buckle.
Harley’s attention turns from him quickly, looking out at the chaos Brainiac and his army were bringing as more of his ships entered the atmosphere.
Deadshot gets right to work in questioning Waller, wanting the full specs of everything, and why wasn’t he the one put in charge, throwing a “ No offense but you’re crazy” towards Harley as he does so.
Harley, still entranced by the pretty lights, concedes his point with a tilt of her head and an unconvincing shrug that equates to her seemingly having some semblance of an idea of why it was at least okay if not unusual beyond her “crazy” to be picked for such a thing.
Not that she looks to Waller for any outward clarification either, not in the way Deadshot does, and definitely not in the way Boomer suddenly does.
“Now why can’t I lead one of these things?” His accent is thick as he says it, looking towards Waller only momentarily.
A bit more preoccupied with trying to ensure Nanaue, who he had just met, didn’t randomly decide to make him into his next meal even though the shark, like Harley, was more intrigued by the lights and ships in the sky at the moment to pay attention to anything else.
Unsurprisingly, Waller is unfazed and unthreatened by any of this, knowing she held the detonators to the bombs in their necks, leaving her safe from their volatile proclivities.
“So Batsy really up and left us all behind,” The Doctor says to herself in genuine disbelief, as if she knew that wasn’t personally a choice he would have made lightly, then again with all her experience with the bat maybe she did.
Not that it personally mattered much to Rick, Batman meant little to him, but someday -if that day ever came- he might have to privately thank the man for saving Harley from the sinking purple lamborghini.
Harley answers the boy’s question for Waller with one of her own, turning away from the invaded sky, “Ya really think I’m crazy enough to stump an extraterrestrial mind reader?”
Amanda raises a brow, her tone flat: “You tricked a god.”
“Holy fucking shit, are you complimenting me?” Harley asks, not as flabbergasted as the rest of the room's patrons, because for all intents and purposes, that was as close to a compliment as Amanda Waller would give her… subordinates.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Deadshot bemoans, sending a critical look at Boomer who had been nodding his head in agreement that sending a mad woman after a tyrant telepathic alien was begrudgingly genius in its own right.
Unsurprisingly, Nanuae doesn’t let his opinion on the matter lead to much, the shark looking as quizzical as a shark with little emoting power could manage as it stared at the battalion of ships:
“Birds.”
Harley pats what is considered to be the shark-god’s shoulder, smiling up at her gargantuan team member with the same love in her eyes she got when looking at her badly taxidermied beaver Bernie.
“Close enough,” She encourages, and it’s a wonder she hasn’t somehow absconded with the shark, and taken him as a new pet alongside her hyena Bruce.
It’d be an upgrade from Belle Reve for sure, especially since Harley treated her laughing mammal with boundless affection, care, and food.
What that food was, well it was mainly fitting of the animal kingdom, more so than most pet owners would allow with their exotic pets at least.
Rick would say her hyena Bruce had moved impressively up in the food chain under Harley’s care.
There was no telling where that would put the apex predator Nanaue if she took him under her arm.
They’d get along like a house on fire really, both royalty in their own right.
Rick genuinely wishes that day would happen, that the Queen of Crime took King Shark as a pet, at least that would have meant they survived Brainiac's reign.
If Vril knew what was good for him, he’d abdicate what rule he thought he’d hold over this world, Harley Quinn deserving true supremacy since she’d not only be saving the world once but twice.
Evidently, by putting Harley in charge of the first squadron of Task Force X, the one that would be combating Brainiac personally, Waller agreed Harley had the power to overthrow this farce of a monarch.
A victory Waller would claim as her own all the same, but Rick would know who the true winner was.
Rick would thank and congratulate Harley first when she took Vril down, and that’s a promise Rick will keep, since he wasn’t allowed to fight this battle by her side in the way it felt he was meant to.
Made to.
He wants to reach out. Especially as Waller begins the briefing now that the matter of who was the de facto leader was “settled”, and Harley learns he won’t be doing this with her.
Her reaction is more spontaneous than his had been, her face twisting in shock before she crossed her arms in distaste.
An agitated pout on her lips but she makes no move to say anything aloud or disrupt Waller’s briefing to fight her on it.
For once, it was obvious Harley was well-and-truly listening, she always did, but whether or not that showed or she planned to follow through on those orders was always something to find out later.
Now he can note she’s ingraining each and every detail as her eyes bounce and flitter over locations, mission objectives, and the little information they had about Vril Dox and his species: Coluan, and what they could glean from his plan of world domination or in other words his manifesto.
Her steely eyes soaked it all up in the same way they had the lives of her former patients, from their words, mannerisms, and eyes while mentally sorting through the ever evolving DSM’s with her deductions.
It’s a sight to see if someone knew what they were looking at.
And Rick knew, because he too was smarter than most, smarter than people gave him credit for and ever assumed. Expecting a soldier to be nothing more than a grunt in the same way a harlequin was only meant to function under orders of a master.
Bothersome assumptions at first that sometimes still stung, but he’d made it work for him, Harley had made it work for herself.
Never underestimate the enemy was something taught but not often learned, the pair of them might as well have a degree in the topic.
“Now that you have your assignment, get going I have other teams to brief,” Waller announces, turning her back on them.
Deadshot is the first to move, heading to the door with the air of someone wanting to get things over with.
Boomer isn’t far behind, the man giddy now that he is out of his cell, clearly wanting to make the most of it even if that took place at another end of the world.
Nanaue toddles after them, not wanting to be left behind and Harley follows leisurely, hanging back in the same way he was for a moment so by the time he’s making his way through the door they’re within a foot of each other.
The other team is in the hall, Dubois, Rat Catcher 2, Waylon Jones aka Killer Croc, and the Mad Hatter Jervis Tetch - who Rick knew little about as the man had never been utilized for a mission.
Harley seems to know exactly who he is, tipping an imaginary hat in his direction, and the man’s unique under-bitten smile is a bit less goofy when aimed in her direction.
Still Rick notices as they pass them by, unable to dally with Waller waiting for them, she shifts closer to the wall away from the man.
Rick shares an empathetic nod with Dubois during this exchange, it ending shortly as he makes a wall between Harley and Jervis.
Not that Dubois minded the stunted exchange, he understood the rag that was in Rick’s mouth.
They continue down the hall, shoulder to shoulder now, saying nothing but in every step their fingers brush.
The tips of her fingers at one point caressing over the back of his hand as the rest of her squad - because they aren’t his squad at the moment - squabbles.
Deadshot and Boomer banging their shoulders aggressively with each other as they keep moving.
Deadshot even sidesteps the aussie at one point so as Digger moves to check him, he veers off into Nanaue who he promptly bounces off of and back into the wall, leaving a hole where his shoulder struck.
Harley laughs softly at the exchange, nothing more than a small amused breath of air breaching her lips.
It does more to display her upset than if she’d said it aloud.
The Colonel, unable to stand her anguish, takes her hand in his own.
Truthfully uncaring any longer because surely everyone knew as they hadn’t been entirely discreet.
Not with them patching each other up then having sex in the locker room, resting their hands on another on missions when the other was under distress, and being the most protective and attentive to one another during the duration of their missions.
Immediately she squeezes down on the offered limb, not enough to hurt but her nails do accidentally poke at his skin. Not that he’ll say it aloud or ask her to stop because of it.
He applies even pressure back, as if the connection of their palms would transfer all the strength she would need to do this.
They’d rendezvous soon, she wasn’t facing Brainiac just yet , he tells himself over and over again, knowing if she really needed - hell if he needed her for backup that was more for their mental health than physical - he could lie.
Claim they were overwhelmed, that the caches were being overwhelmed or that Cobble and the other thugs around didn’t want to do business with someone not from their way of life; therefore Harley Quinn’s assistance was needed.
The hall where they’d break off was quickly approaching, and Rick would probably end up tripping them both if he slowed his steps.
They had orders to follow, a world to save, and a timer that did them no favors.
She looks up at him, something in her eyes they don’t say with their mouths, and they don’t have to - they have orders.
Rick cups her cheek with a hand, his thumb sweeping over her heart tattoo. The world in his palm, and Harley has her first command of the night:
“Kiss me Flag, that’s an order.”
It’s what he does best.
Deadshot and Boomer stare for a moment in shock, their small feud ending in the hall at the sight of the two finally having got their shit together, before heading towards the chopper.
Boomer having to grab Nanaue by the fin to pull him away, as the shark had been watching the spectacle cluelessly.
“Let’s go!” Floyd finally calls once he’d boarded the chopper, knowing they really couldn’t give the two any longer.
He doesn’t here the soft yet enthusiastic, “Okie Dokie,” Harley’s kiss inflamed lips utter, before the woman rights the colonel’s vest, with one more order to boot:
“Now go do your sergeant majoring thing, I’m going to have some fun,” She beams, drifting out of his arms as if she wasn’t upset in the slightest - she likely wasn’t after that kiss - and skips off towards the chopper with a salute.
He must have picked up her crazy, he and probably anyone who bore witness to him saluting her back, thinks. Not that he minds, nor would he if he had the time to.
Rick turns on his feet and heads in the direction of the men and women he’d be leading into battle.
More ready to do his job than ever, because if Harley needed the way cleared and weapons to aid in her destruction of this Coluan bastard, he’d give it to her gift wrapped.
As expected, as time had gone by, even the short amount it’d taken to get troops deployed and working. Brainiac had gotten his hands - or more accurately his mind - on a few soldiers and agents.
The Coluan not needing to do as the Enchantress once did where her soldiers needed to be made by her own two hands in person.
Something Waller had been amazed by, Rick nor any of the Squad members deployed that had survived that mission want to think about what she may think of Brainiac.
How he could hear and display the thoughts of many in seconds were they not guarded, mainly surface level things, and he could broadcast them too.
Should he find what the person desired, which wasn’t a necessarily hard thing to do, he seduced and converted them to his cause.
Turning them into his corrupted followers happened in seconds when Enchantress doing it by hand had padded their time in fighting it off by hours.
That being said, it doesn’t take long for the Coluan to figure out that beyond the armies on their way to stop his newfound reign, the specialized forces of Task Force X were on their way as well.
A fact he is vocal about from the minute they touch down, and they all hear it, and of course are expected to ignore unless they want to be changed irreversibly as well.
“Tell me Harley. Doesn’t it make sense that I should approach YOU first? Hm?” The Squad momentarily turns towards Harley at that.
Joining her as she turns around in circles, because to her and them, as far as they knew, that meant he could be there with them now.
Miles away, Rick flexes his fingers around the crowbar he was using to pop open a crate and check stock, hoping the Coluan quickly gets his brains bashed in by her bat or notices shortly that getting into Harley’s mind wasn’t some simple feat, and move on.
The Coluan is nowhere to be seen, except he’s no less heard: “There’s a version of you, Harley, that would enjoy being on the other side of this.”
“Wouldn’t we all mate?” Boomer remarks, whistling at the destruction of Metropolis.
Deadshot immediately punches the man in the arm - not okay with the man potentially helping the alien get into their minds with that kind of talk - and look’s to Harley.
There’s clearly a plan in his mind, but if Waller put Harley in charge, he might as well see what she had to say and hope they were on the same page.
On the spot, Harley looks out to where Boomer had been staring, and listens to the feeling it leaves her with.
It makes her feel exposed, and the Coluan’s broadcast wasn’t exactly helping.
So her eyes draw down to the green entrances to the subway stations. Surely if there were people unaffected they might be hiding there, and it wouldn’t take long for Brainiac to send the troops down after them or collapse it atop their heads.
She quickly bypasses that last thought, knowing from the crowds of infected people needing to be gunned down as they’d never be their selves again; the man (if that’s what he was - Harley didn’t know enough about the shape of water looking motherfucker or his species to know, and merely went of his deep voice. A human prejudice sure, but he could always correct her if she was wrong and she’d abide by it.) wouldn’t kill them.
He wanted them as his collective, this wasn’t simply taking over the world as they knew it, this was more than a hostile takeover; it was infection, enmeshment, and more loosely indoctrination.
Assimilation.
Taking this into account, Harley skips off towards the subway’s opening, hearing her squad scramble to follow her in turn.
“Why is your crazy ass going into the subway?” Deadshot asks, halting the doctor by putting his hand on the rail across from her so she couldn’t proceed.
“The Hall of Justice museum thingy has a sign in there about being built above it - It’s why the mannequins hanging from the ceiling sometimes shake. We could come up through it, and have the place sweeped before Flaggy gets there to clear it out as a base.”
“So long as we get there lass, I don’t care what we do,” Digger admits, heading down the steps without any preamble.
Nanaue continues to follow along happily, munching on a license plate that had fallen off the crashed car they’d landed the chopper next to.
“We’re going to have to get that thing food,” Floyd mutters, heading down the stairs, unflinching as Harley, a step above, pushes her hands on the tops of his shoulders and jumps over him on the last step.
Flipping and landing triumphantly, before continuing to skip off, and catch up with Boomie.
Brainiac's words rolled off her back, because she had a man who made facing the dangerous world tolerable thank you very much.
A man who made her realize she could do better than manipulative men only seeking to use her as their pawn.
With the long stretch of open space in front of her, Harley cartwheels and flips.
Letting her body loosen and spine stretch and pop out of the tenseness all the helicopter rides she’d been in today had left her with.
Brainiac changes tactics then, crooning out a few words to Boomer about how he could be the best, and could show the world what he got.
And while the man falters momentarily with his footing, he’s more startled at randomly being addressed than impacted by the alien’s temptation.
He’s even on his game enough to throw out a boomerang when two figures tumble out of one of the maintenance shafts, one in a security uniform the other in a jumpsuit;
Both with glowing purple eyes and what look like violet varicose veins sprouting out from around them.
Each head topples through the air and onto the floor after being severed by the cold metal of Digger’s special weapon of choice.
The blue and yellow marked equipment returns with a soft clap of leather as it snuggles back against Harkness’s glove.
“Me eat,” And it’s not a question if it’s okay or not, King Shark is quick to pick up the discarded bodies, mumbling, “Nom Nom,” before scarfing them down.
“Better them than me,” Digger remarks, more disturbed by the bodies being crunched by Nanuae’s teeth than what might be the end of the world.
They were lost causes anyway, and if this was the sharks last chance for a decent meal, who were they to stand in its way?
Once the bodies are “disposed” of, and the squad silently wonders to themself did Brainiac feel their deaths, they jump onto the tracks.
Harley hops down onto Nanuae’s head and shoulders for a “sharkie-back-ride” not wanting to risk getting shocked by misstepping on the tracks - as she didn’t have a good history when messing with electricity.
She had a feeling it wouldn’t even affect her shark friend's thick, sandpapery skin.
He probably wouldn’t even charr in the same way her skin would immolate with how high a voltage must be running beneath them.
Harley has a feeling Livewire would absolutely adore this place, or at least the electricity she could soak up from it.
Maybe she’d bring her here for her next birthday, although they’d have to stop the train from coming somehow.
Harley promises she’ll figure those details out after this if she and Leslie were still alive.
It takes no time at all for the darkness to settle over them, Floyd leading them with a flashlight.
“Couldn’t the train have been in here?” he bemoans, and Harley understands even if she isn’t the one walking.
Jerryrigging the train into getting them closer to their destination would have been a lot easier on their feet, but as they all knew, luck was never something on their side.
They wouldn’t have bombs in their necks or even be here if it was.
In the meantime, Vril had said a few more words. Having offered Dubois to keep Rat Catcher 2 and his daughter safe, offering Jervis Alice, and all of wonderland.
And rounded back to Floyd with a similar offer as the one he’d offered Bloodsport, the safety of their daughter(s).
A chance at being proven the best marksman alive, and riches that surely would turn the heads of credit card taking serial killers.
More or less, Floyd ignores it, and they arrive at the junction that has the Hall of Justice’s museum coordinates.
With the help of some C-4, and Nanaue’s strength - not to mention a conveniently placed manhole that leads to the building's bathroom that they’d only noticed after Harley happily already set off the bomb - they’re in.
It’s empty. The Museum closed, not only because of the alien invasion, but rather because it wasn’t open on Monday’s.
Harley really hated Mondays so she didn’t blame them.
Digger is quick to give them heart attacks by setting off the hero's holograms, making them reminisce about their starts and what they fought for.
Harley sticks her tongue out at them, and halfheartedly flips off the Batman standee.
The squad have similar reactions to being surrounded by the superhero memorabilia, with Nanuae absently biting on a Aquaman mannequin.
Honestly they don’t know why because they’re all decently sure the two haven’t actually met, but what did they know about Atlantean(?), ocean politics?
Digger wastes no time in punching and knocking over everything with the Flash’s logo.
Floyd tips over Batman’s standee and mannequin with a press of two fingers, and heads up the staircase to start looking for whatever real artifacts the Justice League have donated that they could use in this fight.
Harley works on doing the same, her eye catching Crime Alley they called it, where standees and confiscated or abandoned crime scene items were also displayed.
She’s alone there, looking at familiar faces, reliving memories as she turns down Batman’s portion - it signified by a standee of Batman and the Robin she’d helped Joker kill.
Jason Todd .
Harley knows it means nothing, but she apologizes under her breath to the image of the red and green clad boy anyway, guiltily petting at his depiction for a second before moving further along.
Briefly she questions if the new Robin and Nightwing had gone along with Batsy, and how they felt about this situation.
They weren’t fighting though, so she can only assume that answers her question.
There’s a cutout of her in her jester's outfit, displayed in a plexiglass beside it is her wooden mallet Punchline.
A good whack from her Love/Hate revolver has the flimsy lock keeping it clattering to the floor.
With her GOODNIGHT bat secured to the length of her leg, she doesn’t need the comically large weapon, except as she takes it back into her hands after a good few years, it brings her the same sense of implicit comfort that Rick does.
That’s when Vril speaks from likely the comfort of his ship, because he’s not here in the hall as his words flitter through her head and the heads of who Harley didn’t know was the whole of anyone left in Metropolis or the world itself.
“What is it that you want, Harley? Is it validation you seek? I’ll validate you on a universal scale.”
She thinks the Coluan with all his freaky-deaky mind reading tips, should have known now wasn’t the time to pry her with questions like that (especially when it sounded weirdly flirty with that last bit), and speak about the validation she needed to survive.
Especially not when she was staring down a fucking standee of her ex: the Joker.
Harley domes the cutout with Hate, sending it toppling from where it’d been pinned to the wall, right in the path of Punchline, the wooden mallet splintering the standee into pieces.
Deadshot and Boomer come quickly at the sound of the commotion, Nanuae thankfully a step behind because his bulk splinters the door frame and some of the surrounding cutouts as he comes blundering in, eyes dark as if there were blood in the water.
It’s touching, she’s not used to people coming for her, Rick more so than others as he was the first to truly give a damn, but some part of her still finds herself a bit shocked when he does so.
“C’mon Harls,” Digger sighs, his posture falling in relief, as Floyd throws his hands up before looking over the adjacent hall for further confirmation this section of the museum was clear, and heads back towards Hero Hall.
She knows Boomer hadn’t actually told her to follow him, but she does move as he pushes past King Shark who merely breathes through his bloodied teeth and pulsating gills, and heads back to pick up anything other than Punchline that she wanted to keep.
Batwing and Batsy’s Grapple Gun immediately draw her attention, should she need help traversing through a fight with an alien who could fly, she didn’t think it would hurt to have it on her person.
Sliding the Grapple Gun into the straps along her leg, Harley glances over at the prepping the others were doing.
Blocking the windows with heavy memorabilia with the help of Nanaue, she gets to work too, mumbling the national anthem that certainly confuses Boomie and Floyd if their quizzical looks meant anything.
It helped her feel closer to Flag, and the two were smart enough that she didn’t feel the need to spell it out for them when they could figure it out on their own.
Nanaue does, “Flag.”
“The subway was a good idea,” Rick commends, emerging from the bathroom with a few soldiers carrying boxes in tow.
Floyd’s and Boomer’s weapons train on him momentarily, having been too occupied to hear him or his entourage approach.
But not Harley, because to them, they’d heard a voice and reacted. Harley had heard Flag and beamed.
She ran, she squealed, because she could, because from that kiss they shared - one so easily seen - no, one definitely seen - their touches didn’t have to be so secret.
Professional? Maybe. To be fair it wasn’t like she planned on jumping his bones in front of all his men, it’s a fun thought but she’s not even drunk or high enough to go there.
And she definitely wouldn’t in front of Waller, which would totally be an in your face moment but the more she thinks about other people, especially that woman who thought she owned Flag.
Her potentially seeing that - well Harley didn’t like it and wouldn’t have it.
No, Flag is all hers. That much she knows as strong tattooed arms engulf her back.
He doesn’t yip for joy in the way she had, no that wasn’t really Flaggy’s style, but he exhales into her hair with such content, he might as well have.
Harley’s never known a protective embrace. Possessive? Lustful? Loveless? Yes to those three.
But this?
This she can tell is protective and loving all at once as his hand sweeps over her head, neck, and spine - then back to her head - to secure her beneath his chin and against his beating heart while his lips pressed sincerely to her head.
This is what it’s like to be cherished.
Harley can only hope, as she squeezes him tight and arches as much of her body against him as she can - so much so that the steel toes of her boots are barely touching the ground - she brings him the same feeling.
Pulling slightly but not fully away, Harley lifts her hands up to his face, finding him smarting a slight bruise to his cheek that hadn’t been there when she last saw him hours ago.
Thankfully his eyes still glow in their usual amber hue, and not like a purple neon sign outside a strip club.
There’s no veins splintering across his face and towards his brain either.
Brainiac had never called out for him either, not in the way he’d called out to the currently active members of the Suicide Squad.
Harley takes some comfort in that. Though she can admit she’s the slightest bit intrigued, as Rick had always been want for not and a stubborn son of a bitch.
There wasn’t anything she could think of that Brainiac could tempt her Boy Scout with that could allow Brainiac to steal him away.
No, scratch that.
Harley doesn’t want to know or try to conjure up one, not when it could be real and give the bastard ideas or an answer she’d never get Flag back from.
She’d like to believe her new beau (Is that what she should call him? Boyfriend felt weird - they weren’t in high school!) was invincible, thank you very much.
Rick mimics her action, cradling her cheekbones and jaw in his somehow calloused but soft, firm yet extremely gentle hands.
Large hands might she point out as well.
Hands that had talent and precision, hands that she never wanted to be without on her person.
Even if it was something as simple as a hand on her shoulder like he often did with everyone.
When there are no injuries apparent on her person, he smiles.
Smiles in a way that Harley knows would have made her fall in love with him sooner if he’d been allowed to do it more.
She thinks the bashful ones that tip his face down in an attempt to hide might be her favorite.
Or - Harley captures him in a kiss - the ones like these that she can steal from him, were the best.
It might take her a lifetime to find out which she truly preferred.
Hopefully he was okay with that.
“Alright lovebirds, break it up. We got work to do,” Floyd cuts in, pushing through the middle of them.
Harley knows he’s right, knows it enough to stick her tongue out in his fleeting direction and stick up her middle finger at his back.
There were a multitude of reasons Waller had made her leader, and let's just say not one of them was leadership skills.
It was her crazy and her ability to use her talents to bring everyone together when necessary.
So, Harley doesn’t mind letting Floyd do the brunt of her job, as none of them disbanded or needed to be corralled by her psych skills.
He wanted to lead anyway, at least so he could ensure his survival in this ordeal.
Sheepishly Harley smiles over at her beau before she moves over to the gear Flaggy and his men brought.
She reloads her revolver, pockets some bullets for when she needs to reload again.
There’s two Death’s Rattle SMGs for when she chose to double wield, and the holsters fit amongst her belt nicely, though she can’t imagine carrying any more than that on her person unless she wanted to lug around a duffle.
This wasn’t exactly the fight for that.
On the sides of the guns are Penguin’s script.
The thought of Oswald and Rick interacting is a tumultuous one, one Ossie might not have gotten away with all his teeth or without an unrumpled coat, but evidently the meeting had gone well enough.
Penguin better not have been the reason for the bruise on Rick’s cheek, or she’d give the pompous bastard something to waddle about.
Rick, back to work and already giving orders, unlocks the hidden room to the actual Hall of Justice.
It wasn’t the best kept secret it was here, but intelligence must have finally come through with a way to open it.
It’d be acting as further protection, a safe room even if nowhere was really safe with a persistent telepath with an army that could very well overwhelm them at any moment should the Coluan play his cards right.
Now that they were here, base camp settled, Waller was supposed to send in orders on what to do next. Floyd had sent confirmation they’d arrived the moment they’d climbed up through the subway, and surely Flag had as well by now.
Yet, nothing but radio silence.
Harley would consider the woman compromised if not for the fact it took Enchantress digging a tendril into the woman’s brain to try and get answers and even then struggled; she wasn’t weak minded enough for Brainiac to get her easily.
And if he had, there would have been an army waiting for them already, their wills broken, assimilation complete.
She could be dead, accidents happened and even small bouts of force could turn lethal.
Brainiac wasn’t trying to kill who would be a part of him, but those crashed cars they passed held bodies in their seats, and those ships creating debris with the buildings they inadvertently nicked wouldn’t have done any favors for those inside or walking beneath.
“It doesn’t look like you’ve run into him or much yet,” Rick says, absently filling his own pockets with what he’d need.
“Not many people or aliens in the subway,” Harley returns, “I bet those cache’s required a fight.”
Rick huffs a soft laugh and nods, his hair sticking to his sweat-slicked brow.
Carefully she shifts it out of the way so at least he wasn’t in any danger of it poking him in the eyes at a critical moment.
“Hasn’t stopped our new alien overlord from talking to us though.”
“It worked too, he got Hatter,” Flag lets her know, not seeming too put out by the loss.
She understands, he didn’t know him.
Jervis and her had an odd relationship so to speak, clinically she had sympathy for his plight.
(Intrigue too, Alice in Wonderland syndrome was quite rare after all.)
Some nights when back at Arkham and she too was in a cell she’d let him call her Alice and they’d talk across the hall from within their cells.
It’s when his delusions grew too far that had always kept Harley on edge, especially when he had access to his mind-bending cards.
She didn’t mind the nice conversations about the fantastical wonderland when she’d been stuck in the grimy confines of Arkham.
But potentially being unwillingly changed into the character of Jervis’s dreams? Well, she knew to keep some semblance of distance in their interactions.
Hopefully, some part of him realized this is what he’d been doing to others, and another was seeing the wonderland he’d always wanted even if it was fake.
It wasn’t Jervis’s fault his sanity had been skewed, but the way he’d taken it out on others, especially in how he’d done so wasn’t easily forgiven.
“He was never as strong as his cards,” She excuses, not knowing what to think about the man being gone.
It wasn’t world shattering, but she hoped he knew he helped a lot in those knights at Arkham, more than even Doctor Leland did.
Rick picks up on her conflict easily, giving her shoulder a squeeze, a promise he’s here should she need him even if he didn’t understand it.
He was here.
Harley gives him a peck on the cheek for that, her lipstick ever so slightly overlapping with his bruise.
He does nothing to wipe it away, and she’s unsure if he noticed or just didn’t mind wearing her mark.
It hits them both a little too suddenly that by the time this was over, a lot of people they once knew would be gone, and quite a few were already.
Neither were associated with many, but Harley knows Rick had a few army buddies he’d miss if they’d been turned, and she’d be a goner if she never got to have one of Sal’s breakfast sandwiches ever again or get to play roller derby without the full extent of her team.
At least she didn’t have to worry about the Birds of Prey or Cassandra, as they’d all jettisoned off with the Justice League.
All of them important heroes now, and with Cass now being a secondary protege of the bat and all that, of course she’d got to go too.
Harley doesn’t think about the Joker, that was too complicated to get into now, and if the alien could get in that man’s mind, they all might as well consider themselves dead.
His walkie beeps, new coordinates coming through, another cache. For her, Waller’s instructions remained unheard. It seemed as good a time as any to test out the Grapple Gun and Ossie’s SMGs.
She got no complaints from Flag, or her squad, for tagging along. Even better, the secondary squad would be meeting them there too.
Harley, and all of them really are probably having a little too much fun with this reunion and their added gadgets.
She even scares everyone shitless, even weirdly giving the…zombies(?) pause when she leaps off an overpass, and catches herself with the batwing and her grappler.
The drop and floaty bits reminded her of a roller coaster, giving her a high better than that time the coke went flying when fighting Roman’s goons.
She’d stopped taking things, and even toned down her drinking a while back, especially when Cassandra and Flag came into her life, but that time she didn't really think it was her fault.
It was in the air! Was she not supposed to breathe?
The fun doesn’t end there with her swinging throughout the air like the once Flying Graysons.
Flag had a gift for her, one he must have picked up from the museum that she missed, because she’d know those Jack-In-The-Box Bombs anywhere.
They cleared the hordes of silly piggies out with a blast of confetti that didn’t make the once human’s now corpses so morose.
At least she thought so, and not even Rat Catcher 2 seemed bothered.
So, Harley took that as a good sign considering she was probably more of their moral center than even Flag, now that he was entirely too used to the squad’s shit; his frame of reference was ever so slightly off.
She navigated the fray of bodies with more flips and cartwheels. It was surprisingly more effective than hopping or stepping over the piles of flesh, and she got to bring down her bat or Punchline on any zombie still moving too close to where she landed!
An effective system if she said so herself, because it even kept her from potentially stepping on a rat.
She, Dubois, and Cleo would definitely be pretty put out if she accidentally squashed Sebastian.
Brainiac had said a few more words in the meantime.
None pertaining to her at least, so she hadn’t really been paying attention.
Having no need to when she could probably do the aliens job better than he could himself, and she didn’t have telepathy!
She had a degree.
“You’ve always stood out from the rest Harley. I have studied many anomalies but none as…enigmatic as you.”
Immediately Harley crashes out of her flip’s landing, and falls on her ass.
Thankfully not on any of the once people, but her tailbone was certainly bruised and she felt a bit embarrassed.
Not even because she fell, that happened a lot, she was embarrassed and really fucking confused because there’s no mistaking it this time.
Brainiac had complimented her, differently than the rest where he offered them their wildest dreams and told them what they could be, that tone of voice was…seductive.
A bullet flies over her shoulder, not close enough to graze her, but she hears it overhead and a body somewhere behind her falls.
Rick, heading towards her, is slipping his very recently fired gun away, having taken out the brainwashed being that had been coming up behind her during her stupor.
She takes his offered hand easily, blushing at how easily he pulls her back up to her feet.
It’s not that she didn’t know he was strong, especially not with his beefy arms that had literally held her up off the ground when they were having sex before she could even wrap her legs around him.
Still she can’t imagine it failing to fluster her anytime soon.
“Harley mate, I think that thing’s flirting with ya,” Boomie points out, lifting up his hand to catch a boomerang they hadn’t seen him throw.
It actually had been circling the air acting as reconnaissance during the fight.
Rick squeezes her hand as the man says so, and Harley uses her free hand to rub her aching tailbone, pressing herself closer to the Colonel as Brainiac speaks again:
“Now that I know the…talents…at your disposal. I can plan for you. You become apart of the equation. Simple!”
“Yeah, there’s no questioning that,” Floyd deadpans, using his I AM THE LIGHT THE WAY gauntlets to take out a few stragglers, since they’d managed to lock down the area pretty well and obtain the cache.
All of this without any word from Waller.
Harley blinks, her lips in a line for a long moment, and dismays entirely worn out from constantly finding herself in these situations, “This isn’t the weirdest way I’ve been flirted with either.”
The Creep comes to mind, and instinct born from past experience tells her to let Rick know in the same way she’d reassured the Joker, that she was a one man kinda gal that did nothing to encourage this.
Even if in her heart she knew - especially with how Rick was looking at her now - he knew that.
It’d surprised her at the time of all that when the Joker told her he knew she was a one man loon too.
Similarly to then as well, the fact that her beau knew how much she loved him makes her smile and squeak in happiness.
Her body immediately leaned heavily into the Colonel’s chest, who holds her back with an unyielding arm around her waist.
It’s not a position they hold long, it’s not one Harley allows them to hold long.
Figuring with this new development in way, even with her probably easily read subconscious going too…crazy…for Brainiac to get far of a read on, she didn’t want his attention drawn to Rick.
The colonel doesn’t look happy about it, in fact he looks slightly hurt as she extricates herself.
He’s too smart to not understand her reasoning. That didn’t mean he had to like it, she didn’t either.
It felt like getting a toy for your birthday that a party guest was so jealous of, you immediately had to put it away before it mysteriously vanished.
Her attention diverts to Dubois who ambles over, looking both her and Rick over as if checking for something, before addressing her, “Waller still hasn’t come in.”
Harley nods, knowing that all too well, and the uncertainty that fact brings her doesn’t make her feel great, even if her being dead might actually help her and Flag’s relationship down the line.
“She has us looking into Lexcorp for Luthor, we’re going to get on that. Provide help for Flag should he need, you and your squad should focus on Brainiac and we’ll meet you there once what’s done is done with Luthor.”
Harley is grateful for the direction, and smiles. Taking a deep breath before rolling back her shoulders and calling to her squad:
“Let’s get moving and have this wrapped up by dinner, because I’m already starving. We should get snacks while we go,” Harley’s skipping as she loudly talks, sending back a wave over her shoulder towards Flag and Dubois.
“Nom nom,” King Shark evidently agrees, picking up a body for the road.
It’s not a great travel snack as it’s gone almost immediately, but there’s hundreds of others for the shark to partake in.
There decently far enough away from the cache, Flag and Dubois a mere speck in the distance when Brainiac speaks again. Again to her, because who else was he trying so hard with?
“Trust me: at my side, you wouldn’t play second fiddle to anyone. Not a sharpshooter, not a has-been, and definitely not a…a shark.”
“I ain’t no has-been,” Boomie argues with the air, throwing down one of his boomerangs. It hits the floor, and comes back up, as boomerangs are prone to do, and gives him a sizable black eye and knick to the brow.
“Damnit!”
She shouldn’t be laughing, but Floyd is too.
“What’d you expect it to do?” Deadshot questions incredulously after a moment.
“Not ‘it me in the fucking eye mate!” Boomer growls, curling up on the floor and pressing the heel of his palm against the steady stream of blood pulsing from his brow.
Nanuae breathes heavily off to the side, pupils blown and black, probably in reaction to the blood, but fish are friends not food - them being the fish in this scenario.
Nanaue hopefully learned that after Rat Catcher 2 made him watch Finding Nemo on the chopper home of their last mission together.
Movies were a better outlet for getting the shark to learn than books after all. He wasn’t a strong reader, especially when reading upside down. Harley might try to teach him after this.
All of them weren’t exactly helping disprove Brainiacs observation, but Harley was still very much in charge. Not second fiddle to anyone, thank you very much.
Maybe Waller, but again, she’d been radio silent for quite some time now.
And it’s not as if the woman had been doing a very good job at controlling her anyway, not even with the bomb in her neck she surpassed time and time again.
Stealing the mechanism that deactivated it after Joker kicked her out had been a tall task, but she’d gotten it off, and it’s not like he cared or even noticed.
The more she thinks about it, she probably could have walked straight into the safe-house when he wasn’t there and taken whatever she wanted, barked orders at his henchmen, or killed them, and nothing would have resulted from it.
That is so long as she didn’t out the safehouse to the cops. It was a very cookie cutter place in the ritz that truly hadn’t done her fantasy of a normal life with him any favors.
She supposes that's also why that normal front door shutting in her face felt more condemning than the times in the ‘field’ where he left her behind.
Leaving her in a sinking car when she couldn’t swim comes to mind.
The image brings back the phantom sensation of glass and the absolute force it took to bring her through the windshield.
Water having pressed down on her at all angles and yet she’d stayed compliant, ready to fight to the bitter end for a man who’d thrown her from a building and didn’t give a damn if she lived or died.
She can mistake the pain radiating up her spine as the shards of glass that had dug into her waist, the water pressing into her lungs as Batsy punched her out so she could no longer willingly keep it out.
Kissing Batsy is a reason she tells herself the memory of it all is fond.
A lie, the best of a bad situation, because it wasn’t fine when she found herself feeling similarly to that situation at every damn turn.
No, no, no. No.
No, she tells herself firmly because she is not that Harley Quinn anymore. She is not Harleen Quinzel, she is not the clown princess of crime, she is killer Quinn, she is a Queen!
“Why not leave this world behind and start anew? I can provide an army fit for a Queen such as yourself.”
She was really starting to hate telepaths, it’s also a wonder why she didn’t empathize sooner with the distrust people felt around her for her own talents in the genre.
Harley then sticks her fingers in her ears and shouts: “I’m not listening to you!”
“I don’t think that’s gonna work Harls,” Boomer advises, it doing nothing to break Harley’s mantra:
“La la la la la la la.”
“La. La,” Nanuae mimics, and Deadshot refuses to let this escapade go on any further.
Roughly he grabs the mad woman’s arm and tears her finger out of her ear so she’d stop.
“I’m not dealing with that, you hear me? His purple ass can get into our heads with or without your annoying ass singing. Knock that shit off.”
Begrudgingly Harley concedes his point, freezing up when an abundance of spinal looking purple tendrils come up from seemingly nowhere and begin to pull them all up from the ground.
Before thinking of anything else, Harley attempts to bite the one closest. Thankfully it doesn’t break her teeth or crack them, but her body shivers at how unpleasant the sensation was and let go.
“Upside down. Upside down.” Boomer shouts, as he is in fact upside down, tendrils restricting his flailing limbs as he tries to produce his boomerangs.
Harley doesn’t have a clue if they’d cut through, but she doesn’t blame him for trying.
“Om nom?” Nanaue questions, now staring at her as intently as he could. Having noticed her failed attempt to bring harm to the tendrils with her teeth.
“Om nom,” she confirms with a rapid wave of her head, her pigtails flopping, because his teeth - all three rows of them - had a much better chance at breaking skin(?) than her own.
The location of the tentacle's origin becomes a hell of a lot easier to spot, even through the sudden purple mist passing through the city like plague.
A skull ship, one that in Harley’s opinion kinda looks like a cobra, pushes a bit closer into the atmosphere and the city. Close enough it towers over the city's buildings, one of their pantheon.
Deadshot activates his gauntlets immediately, shooting down at the tendrils keeping down his hands.
The bullets hit in such rapid succession that they are able to tear through their bondage with a popping of red and orange sparks, it's still likely several clips full of metal until finally he’s dropped.
Nanaue is next, only because the shark's fuller proportions make the grasp the tendrils had on him easy to slip through, especially when he slips down enough and is caught by his fin, to chomp the rest away.
Harley doesn’t take any offense when they move to help Boomie first, the aussie’s face was perilously red, and by the time they get him on the ground there’s nothing else that he can do other than pant.
Nanuae’s big hand pets the man’s back absently since Floyd urges that’s the best way for him to help at the moment as he gets her down.
It's preferred, Floyd had a bit more control of his shots than Nanaue did his teeth.
Once she’s free, Harley begins beating the still active tentacles, stopping them with her feet and flattening them with Punchline.
Of course it takes a while for Punchline to do much, wood was hard but this fleshy like stuff felt closer to the padded steel on play places.
It worked better on skulls, but Harley has no problem making do for now. Especially on the ones that had bound her, since the touch felt wrong, especially after Braniacs comments.
Rage and violence and women scorned yada yada. There’s truth to it is all she’s saying as she switches things up with her bat, swinging down at newer tendrils.
These things held the characteristics of a hydra, once one was down there were three more in its place.
She’s forced to switch to her SMGs because all her swinging was making her tired and she’d heard one too many jokes from Boomie about her joining the MLB.
Briefly she’d played softball in the past but nothing compared to roller derby.
Baseball held no interest to her and if she had to take up another sport the only thing she was considering was golf.
Something Flag excelled at, and she figured having him teach her would be a good way to get his arms around her.
And if she didn’t end up liking it, she would at least make a cute, pleasantly drunk, caddie.
“I think that’s all of them,” She announces when it goes quiet, tentacles all lifeless, as were the zombies that had filtered in and out of the fight.
“Nah don’t say that,” Boomie whines, worried about her jinxing it, and Harley would agree if not for the fact just about everything in a mile radius was dead by their hand.
“There’s going to be more every second we wait,” Floyd points out, looking at the giant cobra skull in the sky.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Waller's word, eh?”
Surprisingly, they all look to her at that.
If she’s entirely honest, it’s not a hard decision. They needed to get this over with.
Harley puts her best foot forward, grinning and nodding her head: “Let’s do it!”
“Yes, come for me again…but consider that all theories of warfare posit that you hold back your strongest assets for the end-game.”
Her smile instantly dims. They all know what he means by assets, and Harley knows just how right she was to feel disgusted by the tendrils that had bound her earlier.
“Does that mean we just fought him in fighting those things?”
“Seems like it.”
“Nom Nom.”
“So this will be easy-peasy,” Harley announces, skipping ahead. Pleased she’d be able to easily crack the pervy alien’s skull, she’d be happy then and the rest of the world would be too.
She could see the headlines now: Harley Quinn, two time savior of the world!
“I can think of so many ways to take you apart. Harley Quinn. But don’t worry. I promise to remake you better than your wildest dreams.”
She’s not falling for it, but even she has to wonder what better means.
It could mean anything, it could mean what the world had wanted her to be, what her absent mother, and alcoholic father wanted.
Anything but the disappointment so many others thought she was because she wasn’t what they had expected.
“Even if you join me, I’m, afraid I can’t be the parental figure you so obviously crave, Harley. Coluan parental relationships are more complicated than disappointing mommy and daddy.”
That one hurts, she’ll give him that. It’s the same type of sting she throws at people to break them down quickly, the thumb in an eye socket or burning bullet or stab wound.
There’s also the second hand embarrassment of the bastard basically blasting she had mommy/daddy issues to what might be the whole world, even if they probably already knew that.
She didn’t always have good press in the papers after all. Media in its majority didn’t look upon criminals in the best of light.
She did have a few fashion magazines gush over her style, and her blowing up ACE definitely had a few chat rooms buzzing happily about her very public break up.
Those had all been very empowering. Especially when she’d been recognized, no longer as Gotham’s Crown Clown Princess, but rather as The Queen of Crime.
Since that had all taken place when she’d met the birdies, it was their first mimosa brunch they gifted her with a special Harleen The Queen shirt.
She loved her friends so much.
It's them she’s doing this for. Well not only them, it had a lot to do with the bomb in her neck and a chance at more dates as boyfriend and girlfriend with Flag too, but they were certainly a part of it.
Harley vaults ever closer to the spooktacular structure, batting purple mist from her face, and narrowly dodging the whirlpools of lavender that threaten to throw her from her grappler.
Brainiac speaks the moment she touches down with the rest of squad at the skeletons open maw:
“Harley, what about Rick? I could save him. Use him. Give him your army to lead - once new Colu is made. I’ll allow it.”
Harley’s world goes red, or more accurately, purple.
Dubois takes a long look at Flag when Metropolis echoes with the deranged aliens offer to Harley. He’d taken plenty of them whenever Brainiac addressed the Queen of crime.
The rag in Flag’s mouth, because Floyd understood love was the most undoing and debilitating force on this earth; and anyone could see Rick Flag was in love with Harley Quinn.
Floyd hadn’t enjoyed the aliens quips about Rat Catcher 2 or his daughter, having bit his tongue hard enough upon first hearing them that there was still blood sitting within his teeth.
Flag wasn’t reacting any differently, the man’s jaw stone, eyes vacant as he went about on autopilot. This time, now that he’s been mentioned by name, was being used as a pawn against Harley of all people; he’s on the verge of blowing up.
“Let’s get moving,” The Colonel actively growls, every word rumbling in his chest. Actions packed with intention and force, bloodied lips pulled in an active snarl.
He mutters as he rifles through his duffle, a southern boy with southern curses Dubois knew from experience came to surface when something was perilously wrong and the man was at his wits end.
It’s admirable that all that anger doesn’t even have to do with what the tyrant actually said he’d do to him. Flag had no fear of his autonomy being overthrown, how could he when working under Waller?
Plus, being under the aliens mind control was essentially death. Flag wouldn’t be here or in this line of work if he found six feet in the ground daunting.
Being used as leverage, as an active tether, as blackmail is what drives the man mad.
The man knew what it was like being on the other side of that, and Flag was too good a man to want to have anything to do with causing someone he cared about mental duress.
The man took umbrage with essentially being the damsel in every mission they went on. Imposition is a correlation he’d hate to have found with him.
Dubois wonders as he watches Flag march off without even a salute in his direction, guiding his men to the next cache because that was the best way he could actually help Harley, if that’s why Brainiac had not preyed upon the man until now.
Having saved that particular card up his sleeve to use when desperate. Clearly the alien had to be at this point, since he was still asking after Harley when he’d been preying on her from the start.
More than what he did with them, and with a skeevy adamancy that implied intentions unlike those he had for the rest of the world. Then those implications went out the window, because for all intents and purposes; the calls that came after were proposals.
It wasn’t a bad deal in a way if the man let her keep her sanity, and Dubois knows they are extraordinarily lucky that she won’t take it. The Squad and some of Flag’s men had looked dubious about that with every interaction.
He understood with Harley being…Harley, why they might question her resolve not to leave the world behind. If he hadn’t seen the utter look of faith in Rick’s eyes, he might have wondered too.
Even if he had though, Dubois was sure he’d come to the same conclusion that she wouldn’t abandon them, at least she wouldn’t abandon Rick.
Her devotion to who she was in love with wasn’t exactly a debatable topic, as Harley Quinn had been born from that unconditional if unconventional love.
And with a love like that in lover boy’s eyes, well Dubois knew there had to be another pair reflecting the same right back; tenfold in Harley’s case.
Brainiac had only come after him with people he loved after all. Him going after Harley with Rick obviously meant something.
No, Bloodsport figures it means everything when he looks out into the distance and sees the brainwashed stragglers drop to the ground, smaller ships in the distance begin to veer, crash, and explode, and the giant skull out yonder wither and concave.
Harley Quinn’s love for Rick Flag conquered all.
“Congratulations Task Force X, you’ve completed your mission.”
Rick doesn’t know what he’s expecting as he and the second Task Force X squad approaches the place where Brainiac's ship had touched the earth.
It seems fitting that they find Nanuae standing still, with what is definitely Coluan blood slipping through the gaps of his teeth. Boomerang sitting on a toppled bench, his head thrown back in exhaustion, his beanie over his eyes.
There’s a damaged car nearby that Deadshot is currently trying to jumpstart but had only gotten as far as the music blasting from the stereo.
Music, Harley is dancing happily to a few paces away, her hair loose and all around her alien blood splattered face, causing her to swing it out of the way where it wasn’t stuck to the stuff, as she intermittently uses her bat as a microphone.
“‘Cause you aint ever had a woman like me! And you will never have another like me. Yeah!”
“You could say that,” Dubois smirks, pushing at the Colonel’s back to get him to move. Rick doesn’t need to be told twice, practically already on his way. Caught by her gravitational pull.
They’re all sure any other person interrupting her impromptu dance party would find themselves on the wrong end of the bat in her hands.
Not Rick. Never Rick.
And what a pair they made, red and black wrapped around his military garb all so she could reach his lips and rake her painted nails through his hair.
The squad turns their backs then, giving them the privacy they deserved even if they were acting worse than a pair of highschoolers at their first party.
They more than deserved it.
“Look at me saving the world and climbing up the Flag pole!” Harley jokes, breathless in a good way as she comes back down to earth.
Setting her feet once again on solid ground so neither of them have to strain they’re already very tired bodies.
It’s not a very good joke, it’s corny and far from original, he laughs anyway.
Shaking his head against her own, their foreheads touching as he reaches up a hand to detangle the strands of her hair sticking to the dried Coluan blood on her face.
Harley chases the touch, basking in it before she starts her own little inspection.
The bruise on his cheek is still marked by her lipstick, it’s a little darker than before but that doesn’t shock her.
His lip is split, leaking now and gently swept by his tongue in an absent matter.
Their kissing had re-opened the still relatively fresh wound. She doesn’t ask its origin as it doesn’t really matter.
She had a pretty good assumption as to what it was, and placed a gentle peck there as an apology for his worry.
“You did great. You saved me. Thank you,” Rick tells her, meaning it with everything in him as he cards his fingers through her slightly tangled hair.
Harley blushes at that, momentarily hiding beneath his chin, before looking back up at him and playfully punching his shoulder:
“Aw, shucks. You don’t have to thank me for that,” she dismisses with a press of her lips to his cheek, before something comes to mind, “It’s technically my job.”
Rick sighs but can’t help but nod as she wasn’t technically lying, “I know, and I appreciate you for doing it.”
The sincerity is enough to have her squealing, the pleased sound muffled as she buries her face back into his chest, and squeezes him with all her might.
Thankfully she can’t see him wince because the action presses hard on several bruises.
It should feel worse than it does because of that, it doesn’t. Not if it meant she was happy and safe in his embrace.
He’d take some pressure on his bruised ribs any day if she was there with him. The Queen of his universe and technically…
“Harley,” He hums into her hair.
She peaks up at him with a raised brow, her grip unrelenting as he rubs circles into her back, “Hm?”
“You overthrew a dictator.”
“Duh, I was there!” She returns, not understanding what he was getting at.
“A dictator who practically took over the world,” he follows up with, trying not to shiver as she trailed her fingers up his spine before wrapping her arms around his neck, toying with his sweat slick nape.
Sparing her from figuring it out, he kisses her temple, “You’re Queen of the world.”
Everyone nearby covers their ears, expecting a rancorous reaction. Truthfully Flag’s expecting and mentally bracing himself for it too, but that’s not what he gets.
“Does that make you King?” Harley questions with all the seriousness she can muster.
“Whatever it makes me, I’m lucky.”
She smiles at that, a soft sincere little thing that she rarely lets come to the light.
Harley takes his face in her hands so there’s no possibility of him looking away, not that he would have. She’s a hard sight to turn away from.
“I need you to know, I didn’t consider his offer for a second. And if this Queen ever needs someone to lead her army, I’ll ask . Don’t think you ever gotta do something for me that you don’t wanna, capiche?”
“Capiche.”