Chapter-5 Harley Quinn (Rewritten)

"Boom!"

Stephen jerked back abruptly as the gunshot rang out. His feet remained firmly planted on the ground, his body contorted in a strange angle, reminiscent of a scene from The Matrix. He swiftly leaned backward, his right hand touching the ground for support, narrowly evading the bullet that whizzed past his head. Simultaneously, he extended his left hand, still clutching the gun, aiming towards the direction from where the bullet had come.

"Infinite stack, ten times," he muttered.

He fired a shot and was met with a surprised scream from inside the room.

Exerting a slight force on his arms and waist, Stephen stood up and wiped the nonexistent beads of sweat off his forehead. A lingering sense of fear enveloped him as he remarked, "Gosh, I almost died again. This is the real Gotham, alright."

As I entered and opened the door, I spotted a girl in her late teens, seemingly a college student, standing in the living room. Her hands trembled slightly as she held a pistol pointed directly at me. The barrel emitted a trail of smoke, indicating that she was the one who had just shot at me.

"Your marksmanship with that gun is impressive," Stephen applauded, originally intending to find someone skilled in marksmanship to emulate their abilities by having them shoot at him. However, it seemed unnecessary now.

How could a girl with such a youthful and charming face possess such precise marksmanship? She had even aimed directly at his head the moment he kicked open the door. What could Stephen say? It only served to strengthen his growing fascination with Gotham.

"I have no money, and this apartment isn't even mine," the girl trembled.

"It doesn't matter. I was just looking for a place, and I've found one. I can stay here temporarily," Stephen smiled, observing her with interest. Although the apartment faced the street, it wasn't a significant concern. The design of the upper and lower floors was plain and of little value.

"Snapped!"

Stephen suddenly spun around, raising his hand and firing a bullet towards the door. It grazed the girl's hair and pierced through the door, leaving a sizable gap. The girl froze in place.

"But I didn't say you could leave!" Stephen smirked, his gaze fixed upon the girl, who turned to face him.

The girl took a deep breath, still trembling with fear, but slowly raised her hand. "I won't leave. You can have the apartment, but please don't hurt me."

Stephen scrutinized the girl from head to toe, his smile taking on a sinister and malevolent quality that paradoxically eased those around him.

A sense of daze overcame the girl as something was tossed in her direction. Instinctively, she reached out to catch it—it was the gun! Stephen had actually given her the gun. Why? Wasn't he afraid that she would shoot him?

With the gun in her grasp, the girl instinctively aimed it at Stephen but refrained from pulling the trigger. She looked at him in surprise, her big blue eyes wide open.

"I'm going to take a shower to wash off the dirt. You're in charge of the door, make sure no one else comes in," Stephen nonchalantly stated as he moved towards the bathroom. His tone and demeanor conveyed a sense of familiarity with the girl.

The girl glanced towards the bathroom, her curiosity piqued by the sound of water droplets emanating from within.

Suddenly, a brash shout echoed from outside the door, and it swung open forcefully. Before they could clearly see what was happening inside, the girl swiftly turned around and fired towards the intruders.

Boom!

The bullet struck the forehead of the opposing figure, who slumped to the ground with a muffled grunt, motionless.

The girl hesitated for a moment before dragging the body outside and closing the door behind her. She then walked back to the living room, gun in hand, and stood there, fixated on the door.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Stephen smiled softly upon hearing the gunshots, leisurely continuing his shower.

After finishing his ablutions, Stephen grabbed a towel to dry himself and retrieved his clothes from the washing machine. He dressed neatly before opening the door.

In the living room, the girl stood attentively, still holding the gun.

Stephen approached her, patting her shoulder in an approving manner, and extended his hand towards hers. The girl hesitated briefly before surrendering the gun.

Stephen holstered the weapon and walked towards the sofa, pushing it out and adjusting its position so that it faced the door. He took a seat and gestured for the girl to do the same. She complied, sitting with her legs crossed and hands resting on her lap, assuming a poised and well-behaved posture.

"What's your name?" Stephen asked casually.

"Harley Quinzel," the girl responded neatly, as if she hadn't just killed someone a few minutes ago.

Stephen squinted his eyes, causing Harley Quinzel to feel nervous and remain still.

Although this person appeared young and harmless, like the attractive boy next door, his actions since arriving had defied logic and common sense. Who would loot someone and then hand the victim their gun? Who would assign the victim to guard the door while they took a shower? Was he so confident that he didn't fear being unarmed, even in the perilous streets of Gotham? It was quite unsettling! Harley Quinzel contemplated seizing the opportunity to leave but found herself increasingly curious about him.

She wanted to unravel his thoughts and decipher his peculiar logic.

Having grown up with a deceitful father who had abandoned her and her mother, and a controlling and demanding mother who sought to regulate her every move, Harley Quinzel yearned to escape that environment. She hoped to understand why her father had deserted them and discern his motivations. That's why she had delved into the study of psychology, which is what piqued her curiosity about Stephen, someone who clearly stood apart from ordinary people.

Observing Stephen narrowing his eyes at her, Harley Quinzel spoke again.

"Don't hurt me. I'll cooperate with whatever you want."

"How about I call you Harley Quinn?" Stephen suggested, narrowing his eyes.

Harley Quinn?

Harley Quinzel suspected that he intended to harm her. After all, in Gotham, a city gripped by chaos, hardly any woman dared to venture out alone at night. Even during the day, the absence of law and order made it unsafe. Yet, unexpectedly and inexplicably, he merely wanted to change her name?

"Why?" Harley Quinzel asked curiously. "Why Quinn? Does it hold any special meaning to you?"

...

Real Author: Marvel King

Translator: Zatch[King]Rex