Chapter 9: Coming to Find Me in Broad Daylight, Do You Miss Me?

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the fractured skyline of Gotham.

Harley Quinn knelt on the worn-out sofa, a pistol in hand, her eyes fixed anxiously on the desolate street outside the apartment. Hours had passed since the gang of thugs that patrolled the block suddenly vanished. Seeing a window of safety, she'd slipped back home, expecting Jack Kadere to return soon.

But he hadn't. Not yet.

Harley was trying not to overthink it, but the worry gnawed at her—what if something happened to him out there? Or worse… what if he decided not to come back?

That thought struck her with an unexpected pang of something she couldn't quite name. Maybe loneliness. Maybe fear.

Then—tires screeched outside.

An SUV roared into view, skidding to a stop in front of the building.

"You're back!" Harley said, almost too quickly, jumping off the sofa.

"Just moving supplies," Jack called, stepping out and popping open the rear hatch.

The back was crammed full—boxes of canned food, bottled water, medicine, clothes, even some random toys.

Harley didn't stop to inventory any of it. She followed Jack inside, helping him lug the supplies into the apartment before shutting and barricading the door.

"Where'd you go? You didn't run into trouble, right?" she asked, unable to keep the concern out of her voice.

Jack chuckled, then casually pulled something from his bag and tossed it her way.

A black bat-shaped mask.

Harley caught it, eyes widening. "Is this… a Batgirl mask?"

"Yeah," Jack replied with a grin. "Ran into her while I was out. Took the car for a spin too—first time driving. Not bad, huh?"

"You've never driven before?" Harley blinked. "Seriously?"

"Didn't really have the opportunity," he said with a shrug.

"What did you do before all this?" she asked, but instantly regretted it.

"I'm starving," Jack cut her off with a smile. "Let's eat."

Harley didn't push. She hadn't meant to pry, but something about Jack's evasiveness made it clear that his past wasn't up for discussion.

She went to the kitchen to prepare something simple while Jack unpacked the last of the gear.

Dinner was quiet but warm, a rare sense of normalcy hanging in the air. Afterward, as night fell, the two washed up and retreated to the upstairs bedroom. Like the night before, Jack wrapped his arms around her and drifted off without a word.

This time, Harley didn't overthink it. She relaxed in his hold and let herself sleep.

—

In the days that followed, Jack came and went, driving further each time, gathering supplies and keeping a low profile. On occasion, he returned with blood on his sleeves—after eliminating any thugs who got too close to their building.

Word started spreading.

Soon, the street was quiet. Thugs stopped lingering nearby. Some gangs even began avoiding the entire block.

Harley could feel the shift.

Jack Kadere had become something of a legend in the city's underworld—some whispered about the quiet killer living with a girl in the apartment near 5th and Archer. A man who moved like a ghost and didn't miss when he pulled the trigger.

Gotham had entered a lull—a fragile calm before the next eruption. But beneath that silence, the city had started to fracture into four factions:

First, there were Bane's militants—armed terrorists controlling infrastructure and terrorizing civilians. Second, the frightened masses—families barricaded in their homes, hoping for rescue that might never come. Third, Commissioner Gordon's scattered police force and the few remaining vigilantes trying to restore order. And fourth—those carving out pieces of Gotham for themselves: gang bosses like Penguin, Carmine Falcone, Black Mask… and now, Jack Kadere.

Word was spreading.

They said a man had taken up residence in the West End, someone lethal and untouchable. A ghost with unerring aim, who moved like shadow and shot like a machine. A girl was always with him, too—young, blond, unpredictable.

People didn't mess with that block anymore.

...

Midday light streamed through the cracked blinds.

Jack lay stretched out on the couch, head resting lazily on Harley Quinn's lap. She sat sideways, keeping an eye on the street through the window, her hand holding a pistol as naturally as a coffee cup. Jack, meanwhile, seemed far more focused on boredom relief—lightly tracing his fingers across her stomach.

At first, she flinched whenever he did this. But over time, she realized it wasn't a prelude to anything. Jack wasn't trying to seduce her. He was just… fidgety. Like a cat toying with a ball of yarn.

"What are you gonna do when all this blows over and Gotham's back to normal?" Jack asked, eyes half-lidded.

"Go back to school, probably," Harley replied after a moment. "I was supposed to start this semester at Gotham University. Psychology major. Sophomore year."

"A student, huh?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "How's that life treating you?"

"It's quiet, but I liked it," she said. "Classes, studying, no real drama. I was gonna apply for an internship at Arkham Asylum after I graduated… though I doubt that place even exists anymore."

Jack didn't respond. She clearly hadn't caught the subtext in his question, and he didn't feel like explaining.

Suddenly, Harley snapped upright.

"Wait—who's that?" she said, eyes narrowing, gun rising.

A voice came from outside, low and furious. "I'm looking for that bastard!"

Jack lifted his head in interest and peered outside.

Standing in broad daylight at their doorstep, clad in her armored Batsuit, was Barbara Gordon.

"Oh look, it's the little Bat," Jack said with a smirk, resting his chin in his palm.

Harley blinked in surprise. She knew of Batman, of course, but this was clearly someone else. A woman. A younger, slimmer silhouette under that iconic cowl.

Batgirl.

"You here for a chat or just shouting at the clouds?" Jack called out. "Need something?"

"Let me in," Barbara snapped.

Jack glanced at Harley. "Lower the gun, would you?"

Harley complied, and Barbara strode inside, past the sofa like she owned the place.

Jack spun to face her, eyes full of teasing amusement. "Showing up in broad daylight to see me? You must've really missed me."

"In your dreams. I wouldn't waste my night on you."

"Good," Jack grinned. "Because at night I'm usually busy cuddling Harley. She hates being interrupted."

He reached up and patted Harley's thigh, clearly enjoying the reaction it got. Harley said nothing, but her eyes gleamed slightly. Maybe from pride. Maybe from confusion.

Barbara exhaled sharply, reminding herself not to punch this guy again.

"I'm serious. Are you really planning to hole up here doing nothing while Gotham counts down to a nuclear explosion?" she asked, voice tight. "The reactor Bane hijacked is unstable. It's set to detonate in three months unless we stop him. We're putting together a strike—are you in or not?"

Jack stretched like a cat and tilted his head. "Three months, huh? Sounds dramatic. But I'm not scared of dying."

Barbara narrowed her eyes. "Maybe you aren't. But is she?" She nodded toward Harley. "She's young. Is she ready to die with you just because you're too stubborn to help?"

Jack looked over at Harley. Then shrugged.

"What happens to her isn't my responsibility."