Why did you stay? It's a common question asked of abuse victims. Why stay near, why continue to love someone that harms you? Assuming it isn't an attempt to victim blame, the answer is simple; they are conditioned. Harley knew the process, she'd studied it and could quote chapter and verse the literature on intimate terrorism. Isolation, emotional abuse, the honeymoon period, making the abused feel responsible. The tactics are designed to make sure the target doesn't stray. Of course, Joker was never as violent as when she tried to leave.
It was her life. The supervillainy meant most people didn't care as she was actively harming others or they believed she deserved it for that very reason. Harley wasn't bitter about that. She was a victim, it was an objective fact, but she'd victimized people herself. Being a victim didn't make you a good person and you didn't have to be a good person to be a victim.
Why any of this mattered was Joker was dead. Truly dead, and her Ivy had arranged it. She hated the man but the relationship between abuser and abused is never straightforward. Her staying away, her refusal to backslide was often a matter of discipline as she felt the tug of the cycle pull at her, the gravity of her "Mr. J" grounding her to a normal she no longer wanted… or no longer wanted to want. The hatred was and may always, to some extent, be mixed with something else. She wasn't proud of the fact but conditioned responses take time to overcome.
Harley was glad, then, Ivy understood her relief wasn't expressed jubilantly. She wasn't in mourning, per se, but she did feel conflicted. That was the lingering damage of his mark on her and something she'd have to work hard to remove. But for now, she just wanted to clear her mind and zone out with some trashy entertainment. Her go-to was celebrity gossip mags.
As Harley thumbed through the periodical, catching up on the ins and outs of the lives of very famous people she stopped at a blurb. It was a picture of Naruto with Wonder Woman dancing at some fancy shindig looking quite cozy, at least at first glance. But ignoring the captions about a possible new love connection or speculating on if he had a type, his face revealed something altogether different. His gaze averted, eyes have lidded and unfocused suggested he was somewhere else, trapped in a memory.
She saw the signs of pain, of that very particular ache that was caused by someone embedded deep within your heart. It was the first time Naruto felt real to her, as she could relate to the emotion. She never considered his and Ivy's relationship all that real; he was barely old enough to drink and was some naive techy do-gooder. Harley chalked the relationship up to Ivy being bored or leading him around by the nose because he was wealthy and easy to control.
Now, having seen a glimpse into his response, and how Ivy mourned their end Harly couldn't dismiss it anymore. They'd had something real, something important and she'd allowed herself to get in between them. Since he wasn't just some boy toy or a looming threat Harley could acknowledge that much. Soft, even footfalls released her from her deep consideration, the door opening soon after.
"Hey," Harley greeted while closing the gossip rag and admiring how Ivy's athletic wear complimented her.
"Hey," Ivy responded in kind, heading straight to the kitchen for a drink.
"How was the run?" Harley asked, knowingly. Ivy made annoyed sounds, stopping to drink some water.
"Someone needs to invent a pill that lets you maintain any level of fitness you achieve. I hate running," she complained causing Harley to snicker.
"You'd be the wealthiest person in the world if you could manage that. Maybe we need to steal a lab," Harley suggested, only semi-joking.
"Problem with that is I essentially hate everyone with notable exceptions so it'd just make me the most hunted person on the planet and if that's my fate then at least let it be because I eradicated the world's oil supply not because I'm hoarding a super diet pill," Ivy said as she sat on the arm of the couch.
Harley tapped her chin in deliberation before grinning, "That would be one of the greatest acts of supervillainy in the history of the world."
"Just one of?" Ivy asked.
"Well, it's no outer space railgun."
Ivy scoffed. "Men. Advanced to the point of space travel and still just want to bash things with rocks." The vegetation manipulator walked to her shower to the sounds of Harley's chuckles.
"DAMN IT," Eiling shouted as he slammed the large, circular, conference table. His companion barely reacted to his outward show of frustration. The General left his seat and started pacing. "Now we can't even get him on the phone, that glorified assistant stonewalls us," he yelled. "Who does that upstart think he is?" His ferocity at the show of disrespect and perceived arrogance of the pampered rich boy belied Eiling's true feeling on civilians.
A career military man, he'd long tired of civilians slowing down or preventing him from doing his real work. He was trained and paid to defend America against its enemies. To his mind, anyone that made his job more difficult was no better than the enemies themselves. He didn't need to appear before subcommittees and he certainly didn't need to suck up to legacy brats that didn't know a single day of hard work.
"The person with the stronger hand, at least for the moment," Waller answered. She'd hoped the Uzumaki had a little more Lex in him but it appeared he was committed to the straight life. Normally, she wouldn't begrudge him but Lex made promises and with him dead it fell to the son to fulfill. His refusal put him in her way and she'd worked too hard to let that stand.
"I have half a mind to ship the boy to a black site and get his cooperation the old fashioned way."
"Yes, let's kidnap one of the most visible billionaires on the planet and torture him. No way that doesn't backfire."
Eiling shot her an annoyed glare, "Then what, Amanda?"
She turned on the large screen adjacent from the table, it displayed three locations on a map. "We suspect Lex kept the weaponry designs in his private terminal. We can't access it externally and wouldn't have time to do so internally."
"So a smash and grab at Lexcorp's central headquarters?"
"Yes. Now, these other two locations are places he kept off his books. It's possible Naruto doesn't know anything about them. I believe the package resides in one of those two spaces."
"Three simultaneous operations on heavily secured targets. We'd lose a lot of men and basically should we're behind it. If kidnapping the unpatriotic, peace freak is out then what? Could we use that?" The General asked, having calmed down and ceased his pacing.
Waller shook her head, "Hamilton says it isn't ready yet and he isn't sure when it will be. However, I'm working on getting us people; highly skilled but not so valuable that we could not disavow them should the need arise. It will take some time, these things do."
"And if the operations should fail?" Eiling asked, one always had to plan for failure to manage the blowback.
"As I said, Naruto has the stronger hand at the moment but any experienced card player will tell you that you aren't playing the cards but the person across from you. If we couldn't get him to volunteer his assistance and if we can't take what we need by force we'll simply have to go after something that could make him change his mind. Luckily for us, I have a good idea of what that is," Waller said as she pulled up a file photo of Ivy. Eiling smiled, he had no issue with coercion if it were for the benefit of America.
Bruce landed on a stack of containers, the night cloaking his very presence as he surveyed the scene. Gotham's underworld had been thrown into chaos at the death of Joker. The irony of the embodiment of anarchy and destruction operating as a check on crime was not lost on the crime fighter. Every crew with some semblance of muscle wanted to take his spot. What started as covert assassinations bled into open warfare on the streets of his city. An arms race followed and that's what led him here, a smuggled shipment of automatic weapons.
He recognized some of these men, they worked for the Maroni family; a leading contender in the war of succession. The primary competitor was Black Mask, a man who had quietly built up his operations and was now bucking to be the new king of crime. Neither group was as flashy as his normal rogues. He could get street level enforces but working his way up the chain was a slow, exhausting grind.
Bruce felt himself nearing a breaking point. Even for him, he'd been going at his investigations and patrols for longer and longer hours. He was on-call with the Justice League, as well. Something was going to give but it couldn't be him, he had to surpass his every limitation. His crusade required it so he demanded it of himself.
The sound of screeching tires and men barking warnings was Bruce's alert that this was not going to be the straightforward takedown he'd hoped for. Moving quickly across the stacks he heard the gunfire being exchanged before he saw it. Two-face and his men were there, probably to hijack the weapons.
Black, armored sedans with the doors propped open for cover and Tommy guns blasting away, several of Maroni's men were already shot dead. He needed to act.
Bruce threw a series of Batarangs to disarm as many assailants as he could. Those who weren't affected fired wildly in the location they thought he was but he'd long since moved. He swung down and kicked one of Two-face's men, knocking him into the car and unconscious. He slid across the top of the car and tackled another shooter, punching him repeatedly to knock the man out. Swiftly he threw down several smoke pellets and grappled to higher ground as the attention was focused on him.
Methodically, he picked off the pinstripe suit-wearing men and Maroni's thugs. Done and tired, he barely avoided being run over by a container truck, the driver having hidden the entire time. Grappling to the truck, Bruce hangs on top, slowly crawling forward as the driver speeds, running into parked cars and causing damage to the light posts.
The Dark Knight reached for a small disc out of his utility belt and threw it ahead of them. As soon as the truck drove over the device it activated, releasing an electromagnetic pulse, killing the engine. Bruce counted himself fortunate the back of the truck didn't flip over as he watched the driver try to flee. He caught up with him fast enough and took him down hard. He breathed deeply as he felt his muscles ache. He'd been slow. Hadn't expected a rival gang to show up, hadn't been aware of the driver. He'd start making real mistakes soon if he weren't diligent.
"You're a hard man to track down," a voice in the alley said.
"What do you have for me?" he asked. The Question walked into the light with a manila folder he handed over to his fellow vigilante.
"Not as much as you may like but I had some problems with people trying to piggyback off my work so I had to cut it short."
"Who?" Bruce asked. The Question was not an easy man to follow behind. Some may call him crazy but he was a top investigator.
"League of Shadows as best I can tell. Be careful with his information. Preparation is one thing, bringing him to the attention of your enemies is another." The faceless man said no more as he departed. Bruce summoned the Batmobile and entered, putting it on autopilot as he read the file. Initially, it wasn't much more than what he had. Even with what Diana told him, The Question wasn't able to confirm Naruto was in Markovia. The real revelation came when he got to Naruto's birth parents: Minato Namikaze and Kushina Uzumaki.
Not familiar with either name, Bruce read with rapt attention. Both were orphans, both lived in Japan and died on the day Naruto was born. Their identities and verifying information was solid for anyone not bothering to look too closely, or as closely as he would. But The Question was just the person to dig that deep. Kushina had a much more extensive family history but both showed signs of being fake. Bruce concluded Lex paid a hefty price to forge those documents. It meant he had no idea where Naruto came from or if the Uzumaki was human.
'Could that be why Clark is so protective?' he wondered. The detective vowed to add the information to what else, as scant as it was, he knew about the young man. He knew Clark wouldn't support him building a dossier and gaming out countermeasures but if it ever became necessary they'd thank him. He was sure.
Naruto looked up to the sky that wasn't really the sky, illuminated by a light that wasn't the sun and filled his lungs with air that was anything but. The soft grass had cushioned his fall. It felt nice but it always did here. Except for the geezer sage handing him his ass.
"Are you done, Naruto-kun?" Hagoromo asked. Naruto tsk'd in annoyance knowing he wasn't the one to decide that. The sage smiled, "and here I thought you had something new you wanted to show me."
Naruto rolled his eyes. He hadn't told him he had something new to reveal, though he had. There was a lot of unnecessary conversation cut out between empaths but it also made it near impossible to have secrets, especially from one as experienced as Old Man Sage. Naruto shifted his weight to his back, bringing his legs up as he spun in an attempt to leg sweep Hagoromo. The Otutsuki flipped over the attempt and landed softly. He knew something was amiss as soon as his feet touched the ground. The extended shadow from Naruto's to his location revealed what it was.
"Impressive. There was an entire clan that developed a ninjutsu variant. Shadow Possession Technique they called it." Hagoromo saw the smile on Naruto's face wavered slightly.
"Ya know if you just told me what all they could do there I might take my chakra manipulation further without thinking I'm inventing something new," Naruto complained. He understood the man hated ninjutsu but not sharing the knowledge didn't change that it existed. Hagoromo nodded, it was a fair point. He used his chakra absorption ability to free himself but grew confused when Naruto created two shadow clones and then started dancing.
"Hahaha, no Rinnegan abilities, right? This is my win!"
The Sage of Six Paths looked to his creation, Kurama, and questioned, "Why is Naruto dancing like a defective children's toy?"
Kurama rolled his eyes as he answered, "It's called animation, father. It's a dance style that relies on fluid motion with controlled, robotic movements thrown in for dynamic effect."
Hagoromo scratched at his beard, truly finding the dance weird. "Does everyone dance like this?" Perplexed at the trio moving seamlessly in sync. Did he practice this with clones?
"No."
"How odd. Well, I believe that will be enough for today so if you are done gyrating like a honeybee you may depart, Naruto-kun." Naruto rolled his eyes but activated the seal to leave the artificial space. With the two alone, Hagoromor looked to Kurama. "I sense great conflict within him, Kurama. How is he managing everything?"
"He's doing the best he can," Kurama answered but it did not quell the sage's concern so he pressed on.
"And that little habit of his?" he questioned. Kurama refused to answer but he wouldn't question him further even if he wished Naruto-kun wouldn't engage in such behavior. He sensed troubling times ahead for his descendant and hoped he could meet them.
Naruto appeared in his bedroom with a smile. It felt good to be thoroughly pushed even if the Old Man only used taijutsu. Being active brought about clarity so he welcomed it. He also thought about the space, the physical representation of his mindscape, and how Hagoromo, his parents, and he worked together to devise the private training area that would also give Kurama a bit of freedom. It was probably the most advanced fuinjutsu project ever devised and the only people that could appreciate it were the ones involved in its construction.
He removed his gray compression shirt and tossed it into the hamper, the tight shirt clinging to his sweat-laden body. He had about an hour before he was to start his day so needed to hurry. Forty-five minutes later, Naruto was showered and dressed. Lex favored suits but unless it was necessary, Naruto went with informal wear. He was glad he was in an era where it didn't matter as much, so his blue, v-neck, long sleeve T-shirt, dark denim jeans, and red Chuck Taylors didn't draw a lot of attention.
Naruto grabbed a high-calorie protein bar, one of the ways he was able to sate his very large appetite without having to sit down for a full meal. It also happened to be pretty tasty, the current one. apple-cinnamon flavored The trip out of the penthouse and to his car was routine, until he entered the car.
"Kara, what are you doing here?" he asked.
"You have public appearances today so I need to be there, especially since you refuse media training."
Naruto easily slid into the black SUV and closed the door. "I don't need media training. Who needs to be trained to tell the truth?"
"It isn't that simple, Naruto," Kara said in disbelief. He always seemed so cynical to her so she couldn't square how naive he was about the media. Things could be twisted, cut, and presented under a false light.
"Sure it is. I can't control what people do with what I say once I've said it but I can be simple and direct while speaking. Besides, I have no board and I have no stockholders. As long as I can continue to pay my employees none of this matters to me. It's all bullshit."
"You can't dismiss everything unimportant to you as having no value in general," Kara pressed. She was good at her job and if Naruto worked with her he'd see. "Do you know what people think about you?"
"Do you know I don't care?"
"They think you're crazy. Maybe supervillain crazy or not but definitely crazy. They see you as the boy king running amok at Lexcorp because no one can stop you," Kara informed him.
"And? Let them talk."
"How are you going to attract talent if everyone thinks you're a lunatic?"
"Who says I have to? This obsession with getting the best just isn't for me. People will want to work for me because they'll be treated fairly, paid well, and encouraged to have a life outside of work. I don't hold cult rallies and make all my employees wear a company T-shirt while they act as if I'm the second coming of Jesus Christ.
Do you see the fucking crazy people that get praised in the business press? Narcissistic fucks down the line who pay themselves entirely too much and rarely generate the value they take credit for. And what, you want me to win those people over?"
"Yes," Kara exclaimed, fighting the urge to pull at her hair. "Because perception matters!"
"Oh, so you're saying that if potential employees have a negative perception of me the reality of what I'm trying to do may be hampered? That I may be doing long term harm by not fostering a good public image? That the balance sheets matter less than what people believe and from outreach initiatives to joint governmental projects may hang in the balance?"
"YES!" Kara shouted. Naruto looked at her neutrally, as if he didn't understand why she'd be so annoyed
"Well, why didn't you just say that? I'm not a mind reader, ya know." He laughed when she sat back in a huff. She wanted the job so she'd have to deal with him being selectively petulant for his amusement. He'd normally never behave in such a manner but the pajama people operated under a different standard of etiquette. Besides, if she wanted him to ignore those times she just slipped off without a word then she'd have to leave him to his games.
"You have the All-City Science Fair Finals as our first stop. Try to be uplifting and appropriate."
"Do we do something like this for the arts?" Naruto asked, ignoring her jab.
"Not to my knowledge, why?"
"Just think we should encourage both. I'll get with Mercy and see what we can do for next year. What else?"
"You have a television interview with Kirk Vandrake."
"That asshole?" Naruto found the man to be a blowhard. His entire ideology centered around winners and losers, determined by your bank account. The Uzumaki wondered if he could just blow it off and spend the day at the park. Kara's hard eyes informed him she'd chase him down if he tried. Pajama menace.
"Yes," Kara answered. "He'll ask you about the criticism you've received from some business leaders and former employees concerning your getting out of defense. Luckily, we have something of an ally in Oliver Queen. He's gone on record vowing to adopt some of your changes, like the four day, thirty-six-hour workweek. Be firm but not combative. And leave smartass in the car," Kara directed him. Naruto shrugged.
"We'll see."
"Then it's back to the office but you have an after-hours engagement."
"With who?"
"With me," she said.
"Can't, it'd be inappropriate," Naruto tossed out.
"It's not a date," she said but Naruto saw through it. It wasn't one because she didn't ask nor label it one. Not a lie, technically, but deceptive.
"What specifically would make this a non-date meeting?"
"There's no chance we'll wind up in bed together."
"Then I really can't come," Naruto joked. The driver laughed, though the coward tried to pretend he hadn't. Kara's lips thinned and Naruto knew that wasn't good.
"I could sue you for that but I won't."
"In exchange for my meeting you for drinks or whatever tonight?"
"Yup," Kara said smugly.
"I'm pretty sure the pajama people handle blackmail so keep that in mind." Kara laughed. It was a good laugh but he'd never tell her that.
Dusk had overtaken day and night wouldn't be far behind. A slight chill had settled into the air but he was ever prepared, a blanket wrapped around her before she'd even had to voice her discomfort. Sitting in his arms, on the beach, he cut such a different figure than while in class. There, he was focused but she could tell his mind was also on other things. Always on the move, always having things to attend to. She had no idea how he managed it but he did.
Here, however, he seemed so calm and at peace. Like quiet clung to his form and he willingly merged with it to project the most profound sense of comfort. Pamela knew people contained multitudes and at extremes could show antithetical behavior but to see him in such divergent states of being left her intrigued. She wondered which was the real, more natural state of being and if he could keep it up.
She must have been staring for too long as he shifted his eyes to her, a signal to ask the silent question. But maybe she didn't want to, maybe the mystery was one not in need of solving. They could just stay here, the sand cooling as fast as the air, and be the most compelling mysteries to each other. An unwelcome buzz put a crack in the fantasy and by the look on his face, Pamela could tell he wasn't thrilled about it.
Just for a moment, the intensity comes back as he gives the text his full focus. The reply breaks the spell and he returns to his tranquil state. Once again, she wonders how he switches between the dualities as fast as one would flip a switch. "Trouble at the office?" she asked.
He chuckled knowingly, "Just someone feeling unconfident in their position. But it really wasn't anything she couldn't handle."
"So, she texted you for what? A confidence boost? An affirmation?"
"I guess," Naruto said as he shrugged.
"Doesn't that get tiresome?"
"A little but if it'll help someone flourish then it's my obligation to provide it, at least up to a point."
"Is that how you see your relationship with your employees? A series of obligations?" Pamela asked.
"It's how I see all my relationships," Naruto answered without pause. "I don't think obligation is a dirty word nor do I think it's bad to ask what we owe each other."
"You should be careful, Naruto. If they hear you sounding like a philosopher around the department they'll chase you out," Pamela teased. He laughed but had no response. A devilish grin appeared on her face as she got an idea," So, what do you owe me?" she asked slyly.
"Hmm, it's evolving. What do you want?"
"If I were to say everything?"
"Everything might take a few years."
"Ivvvvvyyyyyyy!" Harley whined. She had to remind herself she wasn't on the beaches of California but in Castellon, Spain. She lifted her sunhat to look at her girlfriend.
"Yes, Harley?" she asked. The former sidekick was in the process of doing a handstand with a full split.
"I'm bored."
"And what would you like to do about that?"
"Crime!" Harley said with great enthusiasm. Ivy sighed.
"We're supposed to be keeping a low profile, that was the deal."
Harly pouted, "I know. I'm not talking about a great heist or anything just a little mayhem. Maybe find some thugs and beat 'em up, looking oh so fine while doing it. It'll be so fun."
"Fine," Ivy said. A little action couldn't hurt, she reasoned. "You have a general location scouted?"
"I do, I do, I do and it isn't too far from here. And these guys are some rough customers," Harley answered, now sitting with her legs crossed. Ivy didn't seem to believe her and she wilted under her gaze. "Fine, a lot of them look like models but there's nothing that says you can't be attractive and badass. Yours truly is exhibit A."
"We're getting changed, then, I'm not fighting anyone in a bikini," Ivy declared.
"No cheap titillation with your beatdowns, gotcha," Harley answered with a mock salute. She hadn't been bored but she could tell when Ivy was getting lost in her head. This trip was supposed to be fun and even if she still had unresolved Joker shit she wouldn't bring the mood down any longer, nor would she let Ivy's guilt do the same. A nice brawl, Harley reasoned, should be the boost of energy and excitement they needed. Harley never heard the shot, unconsciousness taking her too quickly to even piece together what was transpiring.
Harley struggled against her restraints before she fully returned to consciousness. She was surrounded by armed men in black tactical armor and helmets with visors to protect and mask their eyes. She was still a little groggy but she noticed Ivy was near her. She also noticed the greenish blood on the beach.
"W-where's Ivy?" she asked but the men paid no attention to her. She became panicked and irate, "I said where's Ivy?" she yelled. "Answer me you fucking bastards!" Harley demanded and was cracked on the back of the skull. It didn't knock her out, it only angered her further. "Where the fuck is Ivy you dickless fuckbags? If you hurt her I'll facefuck all of you with a grenade launcher!" she continued, hopelessly struggling against her binds.
Seemingly had enough of her ranting, one of the masked men shot her with a second tranquilizer bullet. Harley tried to fight the drug but it was no use. Her last thoughts were of her best friend turned lover and if she'd lost her forever.