Thread: the unlikeliest of heroes(cosmic/darkened)

B-but puddin' cup... Her lower lip quivered. Sure, Joker was an ass, but this? She didn't think it would go to this. Certainly he would want to help her instead of just bolting. after all they had been through, after all she put up with, a little loyalty wasn't too much to ask for was it? Well, apparently it was. Considering the latest bimbo clinging to his arm. Harley wasn't particularly surprised, it wasn't as if the Joker really did much other than sleep around, go on killing sprees, and otherwise indulged his madness. Still it hurt. And it was scary. It wasn't as if she could just walk back into Arkham and go about her supposed life without him. He was the prince, she was the princess right? Forever and only his, the Harlequin from Commedia dell'Arte. Don't take it to offense my dear, put on a happy face. It's just you have your problems, and I have mine. And I find it ever so pointless to have the same sickening routine over and over. Certainly you know that more than ever! B-b-but! My dear little Harley...my happy face gal. You know I can't stay here it just isn't good to my health, now that you are all full of he, and even less of a she. Come now, you know I don't like sad faces. Cheer up, before I make you cheer up. She wanted him to. She really did. That ungrateful bastard, she wanted him to beat her down at least one more time, to fuck her inside out and make her whole. If only for the relief that he would stay with her one more night. However he moved to the fire escape and all she should do was hold on for dear life against the wall. Aww Quinny, Pointless, little useless Quinny. If you won't smile for me, I'll do it myself. Sweat was the absolute worst. Well, except maybe the cool of the room when she threw off the blanket. But who was she really kidding, it was the wobbly heat between her legs that was most annoying. Of all the things she had gotten used to, there was still a few kinks she was working out as far as her...appendage went. See, Ivy may have some good ideas, but often those ideas aren't as tested as they should be. Which, strength, agility, and heighten reflexes aside, certain chemicals should be tested before the use on humans. In case they happen to become...a bit manly. Literally. She wasn't displeased with her body, per se. Rather she found the bulging member between her legs to be a kind of a annoying curiosity. Something she was still discovering in terms of its potential uses for her work. She still had what her mother gave her, and most likely the organs that came with it, but it was her newly grown cock that took the front of her new masturbatory urges. Standing a good nine and a half inches tall, fully erect that is, it was one of the few things that helped pull her out of her depression after that maniac left her. Maniac? Oh, more like coward, piece of shit, dirt bag, jackass. The real maniac was what he left behind. Little Harley Quinn, little pet bitch to that jackass? Not so much anymore. In fact now that the Clown Prince of Crime was out of the way, it was time for the Queen of Havoc to stake a claim in the burning pile of feces that was and forever will be Gotham. In the few months since he left she had already made a substantial impact by herself. Not that there was much to be heard of as far as villains or heroes. Who was she kidding? Everyone was some shade of villain really, and as far as the bat went--by far the worst in terms of hero villains--was too mysteriously absent in the city. She didn't really care, after all since his lover the joker left, certainly batsy would go. She had to remember that. That would make a nice addition to her site. She pulled on her clothes and wondered about the nights work. There was much to do. People to kill, killers to recruit, stuff to steal, and stuff to give. She would not burn the city down like Joker tried oh so many times. What is the point of reigning over nothing after all? No, instead her city deserved something more. It deserved the unexpected. It deserved piles of burning bibles, and money raining down on the common folk. It deserved all of the guns to be taken from the police and given to any and all persons old enough to point and shoot. And thus began the terror that was Harley Quinn, the Queen of Havoc, Goddess of Anarchism. Her costume changed as well. What was once a parody of power, picked out and loved by the joker, for it was the female version of him--became something more suiting of a disillusioned woman. Black skin tight leather replaced spandex. She created a new hat whose simple black matched her leotard, and the dangling puffs transformed into something that looked more like rubies one would find on a crown....or blood one would find on a sword. She wore flat red boots, and red gloves that went up to her elbow. Her mask stayed the same, other than now she took the time to delicately paint a small red heart on her left cheek. She smiled into her reflection. Not one of those cheeky grins she gave the joker, but an honest one that whispered stories of crime, insanity, and perhaps most of all, sex. Little chaste Harley was gone now. And she was using every opportunity to prove it. She exited out of the abandoned complex leaving the small storage room she was staying in without a care. If anyone was stupid, or bold, enough to mess with her new found home--she would deal with them accordingly. She was the reigning law around here, and everyone who had earned a name new it.