Gotham Girls #26

The poster had been up for a few days before it started to catch any attention. The playground sides of the city’s parks were always papered with ads for babysitters, cleaning services, outdoor concerts, and anything a busy family might want. So at first, this scouting camp didn’t seem to stand out. It was only on a closer reading that parents took hesitant notice and children began to beg for the week-long day camp advertised.

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Word started to spread about the chipper, enthusiastic girl who answered concerned parents’ phone calls, assuring them of her credentials as a licensed sitter and touting her sunny ideas. Though with their caution raised, as always, Gotham’s parents signed a few of their children up with high hopes of finding somewhere safe.



“You are so lucky.” Poison Ivy shook her head as she looked over the poster idly, glancing over the top of the page at Harley Quinn.

“Wha?” Harley’s eyes were currently fixed on her small TV, lovingly won after over a year of begging.

“Your name,” Ivy continued. She was curled up in her easy chair, a kerchief tied over her hair from her gardening work and looking oddly domestic. “You’re lucky, it never got too recognizable. Can you imagine trying to run ‘Ivy Scouts’?”

“Not so much,” Harley agreed. On the screen, a brightly-colored cartoon rabbit was setting an elaborate trap for the well-dressed magical cat who pursued him, accompanied by many boisterous bangs and springs.

Ivy put the poster down and returned to her shopping list, seeds and plants she wanted for her springtime planting. “Do you have to be watching that?”

“Aw, c’mon, Captain Carrot is a classic!” Harley grinned at the screen. “Kids loved him when I was little.”

“Well kids today tend to go for the more marketable stuff,” Ivy shrugged. “Can’t really make a gun toy with Captain Carrot.”

“Then I’m just gonna have to be a good influence,” Harley said without skipping a beat. “Show ‘em the good stuff.”

Ivy had been surprised, and impressed, at the dedication that Harley had shown to this new project. There had been no small amount of skepticism on her part when Harley first voiced the idea, but neither had Ivy tried to discourage her. She just turned her attention elsewhere, and left Harley to settled the details herself. Lo and behold, a few months later, Harley had rented and personally renovated a space for her new business, dusted off her old childcare certifications and spread the news. Tomorrow was the moment of truth.

“You’ve really done a great job,” Ivy told her now. She had been taken to tour the small business the day before, to give first-hand witness to Harley’s hard work. The walls had been painted with bright free-hand patterns, buckets of toys, games, arts and crafts were scattered around the room, even a small hand-painted wooden sign now hung out front. Ivy had privately chuckled to know that this was the result of several long nights’ thieving.

“Ya mean it, Ivy? Ya think it’s gonna go well?” Harley turned away from the TV. “D’you think I’m gonna do okay?”

Ivy laughed softly at the final question. “Yes. I think you’ll fit in just fine.”



Harley felt vindicated – the kids were loving Captain Carrot. She stood in the corner of the playroom looking out at her charges, as their first day of Harley Scouts drew to a close. The first batch was small, a total of six girls between four and eight years old, but Harley hoped more would come when the good gossip started. The lone eight-year-old was engrossed in the cartoon, along with a pair of six-year-old twins. The two Fivers (as Harley had nicknamed them) were playing a rowdy game of catch with a bright beach ball, and the littlest four-year-old crawled around Harley’s legs for safety.

“Miss Harley, Miss Harley!” She turned around to see one of the ball-players tugging at her sleeve. Both of them stared up at her with wide eyes and wibbling lips, and the dark-haired girl held up a useless, deflated ball.

“Oh, Susie, how’d that happen?” Harley took the plastic mess away and inspected it; a large rip had been torn into the seam and let out all the air.

The girl spoke quickly and frantically. “It wasn’t my fault, Miss Harley, it was Anna, she was throwin’ it too high and it went on accident to the arts stuff and then there were scissors –“

“Nuh-uh, not my fault, you couldn’t catch it and you took it there, she took it there Miss Harley and with the scissors – “

“Girls, Susie, Anna, relax.” Harley knelt down beside them with a reassuring smile. “Susie, did you cut the ball with the scissors?” When the dark-haired girl nodded glumly, Harley’s smile brightened. “That’s so creative! And creativity and innovation are the hallmarks of the perfect Harley Scout.”

“Um, Miss Harley, I helped, it was my idea,” the second little girl, Anna, admitted now.

Harley smiled at them both and gave each one a hug. “Oh, you two are gonna be the best, aren’t you? All of you are!” she gushed, picking up the youngest and tugging softly on her tight braid.

The day had been unstructured, as promised, but still highly eventful. The twins were still wearing the paper hats with their names that Harley had helped them all make that morning – a good thing, since they had the sort of parents to raise and dress them identically. After crafts, the scouts had essentially run wild, Harley included. She had bounded between the television, finger-painting, dress-up box, board games and pretend games as fast as any child. Harley never had trouble coming up with things for them to do; she just made sure any group activities were things that she enjoyed herself.

Now, however, the day was closing in, and Harley could see cars starting to pull into the parking lot from the window. “Oh, Marilyn, Carolyn, your mom’s here.” Twin blonde heads turned around, and the girls snapped themselves out of their TV-induced reverie. “Okay, everyone c’mon to the circle,” Harley instructed, and the seven of them held hands over the large circle woven into the carpet.

“Now, before anyone goes, we have to recite the Harley Scout Promise, okay?”

“There’s a Harley Scout Promise?”

“There is now,” Harley winked at the oldest girl. “Now everyone repeat after me!

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“Now you go home, scouts, and don’t you forget that, okay?” Harley beamed at them all, and one by one the girls were handed off to their caregivers, each one babbling brightly about the fun they had.

Soon, only the oldest, a slim black girl named Ruth, was still waiting. “My momma works later, so…”

“She told me, I know. It’s okay,” Harley smiled, and began the process of picking things up and putting them away. “You wanna give me a hand?”

“Miss Harley?” Ruth asked, her arms full of discarded dress-up costumes. “What’s that mean, in the promise, ‘forget what it means to be me’?”

Harley still smiled, though it grew more bittersweet. “It’s a real important thing. You ever get picked on, Ruthie?”

“Sometimes.” By the way Ruth shuffled her feet, Harley guessed it was more than that.

“And it feels like sh– like something really bad, right?” she waited for the nod. “There’s a lot of people who’ll try and make people feel bad for no good reason. Some of ‘em are worse, too….make you think like you don’t mean anything, or you can’t do anything without them around.” She was quiet for a split second, before her resolve returned. “But they’re wrong, all of ‘em wrong. Cause you do mean something and you can do anything, no matter what any dumb clowns try to tell you. That’s what that means. Make more sense now?”

Ruth smiled, a gap-toothed elementary school grin. “Yeah, it does.”

“So don’t you forget that, okay? Not ever,” Harley insisted, and drew the girl in for another hug. “That’s what Harley Scouts is all about.”



It was late at night when the man known as Killer Croc made his move. He was a huge man, a burly man, out of place even in Gotham thanks to the strange deformities of his face. His nose was more a snout, his ears flat against his head, the skin discolored and dry. It was obvious at a glance where Croc had gotten his nickname. But even among other outcasts, he was looked down on; while the likes of the Joker had fear and respect among the criminal underworld, Croc was pushed out to support work. Hired muscle. Henchmanship.

No more. He promised himself no more. No second-rates, no minimum wages, it was his turn to make his mark on his city.

Step one, of course, was getting out of captivity, and that was his work for tonight. He had been playing it cool, keeping his strength to himself since the business with the OMACs. They had finally, just now, stopped keeping such a close eye on his movements, and such a strong lock on his door. With no one hovering around and one mighty heave, Croc lifted the door up from its hinges. He grinned, seeing that his strength hadn’t really faded the way that he had faked. The clatter of the metal raised several suspicious voices, though, and Croc didn’t take any more time enjoying his escape. He only rushed out the doors, pausing to swipe one pursuing guard into the wall with a strong arm, and ran into the night. He couldn’t hold back a long whoop of joy once he was out of their sight.



The phone rang next to Renee’s bed the next morning, and she pressed it to the side of her head without even moving from the pillow. “What, Babs?”

“Good news, bad news,” Barbara replied.

“Bad news first.”

“You’ve got to be out today. Yes, day,” she clarified before even getting the question. “We had a break out last night, a runner. Some nobody they call Killer Croc, but it’s looking like he wants to be a somebody. It would explain the trail of destruction he’s leaving. Spoiler’s got school and you don’t, so you’re up.”

“And the good news is?”

“Said trail of destruction. He won’t be hard to find, I’ve already almost got a lock on him. You get yourself ready and we ought to bag him by mid-day.”

“Great.” Renee finally sat up and stretched. “You can treat me to retroactive coffee.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Barbara added, ad Renee began to ready herself. “All I need you to do is make sure nothing gets too badly smashed.”



Harley helped her youngest scout wave good-bye to her mother before taking her inside. The morning was still young, but Harley was bright-eyed and ready to handle the day. Being able to take the children on the way in to work was a good chunk of the reason her first parents had tried the program, and Harley wasn’t about to complain about her advantage.

The city was bustling with traffic (full of people trying to beat the later, heavier traffic) and Harley couldn’t help sticking her tongue out at the poor souls as she stepped into her own workplace. “Alright girls, how are we doing today?”

“Good, Miss Harley,” they chorused, little voices overlapping.

“Great.” She grinned back at them. “Are we all gonna have another great day?”

“Yes!”

“Go on, play then, scat.” Harley gently patted one of the scouts on the shoulder, and they dove for the activities that they had enjoyed the day before. She leaned back against the wall and watched them start to play, planning out the day in her head.

Her planning was interrupted, however, by a series of loud crashes and palpable aftershocks. The younger girls screamed; the older few merely looked up, acclimated to life in Gotham.

“Alright, everyone get in the circle,” Harley ordered them, sitting with her scouts in the center of the room, away from doors and windows. “Everyone’s okay?”

“Yes, Miss Harley.” The chorus was more broken, now.

“It’s okay, sweeties. Now you all stay here, and Miss Harley’s gonna see what’s going on, okay?” When the ring of frightened faces nodded, Harley stood up to investigate.

On a first glance, the city didn’t seem any less orderly than it usually did. Harley peered out the window and craned her neck. Finally, she saw the pair of overturned cars halfway down the block that had made all that noise. One had been wrapped halfway around its parking meter, the other piled on top like some absurd piece of artwork. Harley searched out the scene, but it wasn’t until he kept up his rampage in her direction that she caught sight of Croc.

“Who’s the henchman now?” Croc shouted and grinned after the fleeing citizens. He struck his fist out at a passing bus, denting the frame and making it skid to a stop. “You paying attention yet? You ignoring Killer Croc anymore?”

“Can’t really well ignore you shouting you bas- er, you bad…jerk!” Harley reigned in her language with a glance back at the scouts. The girls were watching her fearfully, jumping at each new crash and bang from outside. “Everything’s okay, girls…you all go back to play, just, in that corner alright?” Harley pointed them to the part of the room the farthest away from the street.

The girls moved en masse to the television, Ruth, the oldest, starting the cartoon DVD back up. Harley flashed her a grateful smile, and continued her watching.

Outside, Croc’s rampage continued. The traffic had stopped still to leave a path when he decided to cross the street, each driver trying to make sure that their car wasn’t the next one smashed. He was outside the block of buildings that held Harley’s Scouts now, and she shrunk down under the window.

“What’s the matter, Gotham, you scared?” Croc taunted, his huge arms and legs flailing, heedless of anything he destroyed. “Cause you oughtta be!” His fist sailed up ward and crashed against the hanging wooden sign, right in front of Harley’s window.

The piece of lumber that Harley had lovingly painted into a marker of her new business splintered in front of her eyes, and she stood angrily. “Oh no you don’t!”

Croc’s head turned, and Harley’s shout caught the attention of the Scouts all over again. The girls screamed in unison when they saw the deformations, the rough skin and features that made Killer Croc hard to ignore even as a henchman.

“The heck is this, little preschool teacher mad?” Croc stuck his face against the glass and leered at Harley. “Have I been bad, Teach? Need to punish me?”

“You leave us alone!” Harley demanded, still standing behind the window.

Croc pretended to recoil, his reptilian grin widening. “Nah, I think us two oughtta get a little closer.” He reared back his face and Harley scampered just in time to avoid the shower of glass when he punched the window open. “So come on, Teach, what’re you gonna do to me?”

For all his posturing, Croc was anything but ready for Harley to leap onto him, her body agile and quick, and fists flying at his face. She knocked him back out into the street and flat on his back, gaining momentum as she skidded into him. “Nobody- hurts- my – girls!”



Batgirl kept to the morning shadows as much as she could, but it really didn’t bother her as much as Batman to be out during the daylight. As a cop, Renee had always preferred to work in the open whenever there was a need, to show the people of Gotham City what their police did to help them, and try to make them less afraid. She hoped she could find the same effect as Batgirl.

She was following the trail that Barbara had promised, an unmistakable line of broken glass and twisted metal, although she was relieved to see few injuries worse than sprains and broken bones. It didn’t seem to be for lack of trying as much as haphazard aim. Batgirl followed the victims’ directions until finally reaching a once-quiet street, and Barbara’s voice in her ear confirmed that Croc was nearby.

She passed the overturned cars, checking to make sure no one had been too badly hurt, and glanced across the street in time to see Harley Quinzel leaping out of a pane of shattered glass and bearing Killer Croc to the ground. While Harley punched and shouted, Renee took a short moment just to stare.

Harley’s voice carried across the road, mingling with a few onlookers’ cheering her on. “You get up, and you go in, and you apologize!” Harley punctuated each command with a new smack, keeping Croc right where he was.

“You find him?” Barbara asked in Renee’s headset. “You should be right on top of him now.”

“Yeah, I found him,” Renee chuckled. “Seems under control here. You are not going to believe this later.”

“Get off me!” Croc roared and reared, and Harley leapt backward.

“Gotta go,” Renee muttered, and put her focus back in place.

Harley was on her feet again by the time Batgirl made it to the front of the day-care, and she smiled to see the help arriving. Croc snarled, and inside the building Renee could see the children – the youngest absorbed in the television despite it all, the others pretending to watch but sneaking long looks at what was going on.

“You don’t gotta worry, I got this guy,” Harley grinned, leaping forward far enough to show off and giving Croc another clock in the nose.

“No way!” Before Batgirl could say anything, Croc was grabbing Harley’s wrists. “No little weakling schoolteacher punk is gonna get any credit for taking me down!”

“Schoolteacher?” Batgirl tossed a look at Harley before turning back to Croc. “So what, you’re saying you’d feel better if I beat you up?”

“Yeah, actually,” Croc finished a punch in Harley’s direction and shrugged. “Brought in by a Bat, that’s some big name points.”

“Okay fine, I’ll do it.”

“Oh come on! It’s personal, he scared my Scouts!” Harley pleaded.

“You know you’re going to have to explain that later right?”

“Pleeease?”

“Alright, alright.” Batgirl held a hand up in either direction, facing both Harley and Croc. “We’ll both beat him up. Does that work for you?”

Croc grumbled. “Guess.”

“I love compromise,” Harley said brightly, and proceeded.

Harley and Batgirl flanked Killer Croc, kept him as surrounded as possible out on the open street. Harley stood in front of the day care protectively, blocking his way to the children who no longer pretended not to watch. Batgirl blocked him from the street; by now the traffic reports had declared this road one to avoid, and the cars that were already here had managed to scatter. With the danger of hitting bystanders gone, Batgirl took the fight into the street. She threw her grappling line hard around Croc’s waist. Croc struggled against the cord, snapping his jaws – and keeping his eyes away from Harley, who leapt up behind him with a solid strike.

Batgirl shot Harley a small, approving smile. “Not too shabby. Have you been practicing?”

“Yuh-huh!” Harley proudly showed off her punches, one after another.

Between them, still wriggling his way out of the rope, Croc growled, “Isn’t anyone gonna take me for a threat?”

“Oh yeah.” Batgirl told him, twisting the cord to make him face her. “You think I spend my spare time beating up people who aren’t hurting anything? No, you’re a threat alright.” She sent him spinning, winding the rope back into the gun as fast as a whip. “Just don’t flatter yourself. You’re not in any danger of taking over the city or striking fear into the hearts of men or whatever the hell you people like doing. All you’ve done is hurl some cars around, and cost a lot of money. I’m just not about to let you hurt anyone any worse.”

“What she said,” Harley chimed in.

Croc put up the best fight that he was able, but there had always been a reason why he was stuck in the henchman role. He was strong, he was angry, and he was scary as hell, but he just wasn’t smart enough for solo fighting. Harley and Batgirl circled around him and he couldn’t keep his eyes on both at once; whoever slipped out of his sight landed blow after blow, shaking and dizzying his head. Finally, Croc keeled over on the pavement and hit the ground with a sharp thud, leaving a small pothole in his wake.

A small, high cheer rang out from the Scouts. “Go Miss Harley! Kick his butt!”

Harley grinned and waved at them. “I’ll be right there, sweeties! Hey, wait!” She turned back just in time to see Batgirl about to leave.

“What?” Batgirl stopped and turned around, glancing nervously at the kids.

Harley looked to see what the other woman was staring at, and broke into a grin. “Aw, don’t worry about them. They’re a little shook up but fine.”

“I’m more worried about any stories getting spread around. For Batman’s sake,” Batgirl said, though with a chuckle. “You were good in there. What is it?”

Grinning wide at the compliment, Harley said, “Yeah, this superhero stuff is pretty sweet. So listen, I just figure I’ll tell ya. Ivy was lookin’ for you the last couple nights.”

Batgirl’s face fell just a little. “She was? What did she tell you?”

“Oh nothin’, nothing.” Harley waved her hands in front of her face. “She didn’t say, she just came back all quiet an’ there isn’t anyone else she’d be sad about not finding.”

Batgirl looked over Harley’s face and slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re not avoiding her or something are you?” Harley demanded and blocked Batgirl from leaving a second time. “Cause I know some bad stuff used to happen before I knew her and all, but Ivy’s the best friend I ever had. And if that doesn’t count for anything than I don’t know what does.”

“It counts,” Batgirl said softly. “It does. Harley, you don’t need to defend her to me.”

“Not anymore, maybe but how’m I supposed to know that?” Harley folded her arms over her chest.

“Tell her I just didn’t have an excuse. But I will. Soon. Tell her I’ll let her know.”

“So what, I’m an answering machine?” Harley huffed, but she smiled. “Sure, I’ll tell her. Now I gotta get back to the kids!” With that, Harley scampered back toward the scouts, and left Batgirl to leave with her thoughts.

The girls crowded around Harley in a huge mass of hugging when she returned. “Miss Harley, you kicked butt!”

“Miss Harley, I think I’m dying!” One of the five-year-olds proclaimed.

Harley’s heart began beating normally again when she saw it was just a scratch from a flyaway piece of glass. “You’re not dying, Anna, let’s just get you a band-aid. Come on.”

Harley tended to the girls where they needed, but thankfully they only had small hurts from the day’s mess. Within ten minutes, they were safely settled back at their activities, and Harley set to work covering the open window with a thick plastic sheeting. “So much for easy money,” she chuckled to herself as she worked.



Batgirl’s work wasn’t quite over when she made her way back home. It could have been, but she made sure to check in on one more thing. “So,” She asked Barbara when she was settled at her desk, with a small file of news clippings. “What do we have on Ferak?”

Renee could almost hear Barbara shaking her head. “Not much. All really hush-hush, for the most part. She must have found ‘home’ though, because no one’s caught sight of her since you did.”

“No one?” Renee shuffled through her papers. “I keep seeing sightings.”

“Yeah, and I bet you’re gonna start seeing t-shirts and tourist traps. Gotham’s got a new urban legend springing up, that’s all. But what I can tell you,” she continued, “is who looks behind it.”

“Oh really? Babs, you’re the best.”

“I am, I know. Turns out, there is something out in those woods that the relevant authorities don’t seem to know about. Not too old, they cant’ have been there more than a year, maybe sixteen months tops. Scientific facility. Pretty high-tech, too. And here’s the kicker,” Barbara paused for full effect. “It’s from the people who brought you Darkwood Labs.”

“No. Really? Darkwood is back?”

“That’s where the money’s from,” Barbara confirmed.”

Renee leaned back in her office chair. “I have to let Ivy know.”

“Poison Ivy?” Barbara asked, and Renee really could hear her eyebrow raise. “Why?”

“Well, she’s got a right to know, doesn’t she? Darkwood was her first enemy all the way back when.” Renee was glad for the distance between herself and her friend – the telephone couldn’t see the blush she tried to hold back at how quickly she had spoken.

“I’d be more inclined to call that a reason not to tell. I don’t want to see someone like her getting emotionally involved in this case.”

“You won’t. You’ll be in your tower. Won’t see a thing.”

“God, fine. No need to snip at me,” Barbara shot back. “Just want you to be careful out there. Friend and all.”

“I know, Babs. I’m sorry. But she does. I’ll keep an eye on her, but Ivy saw Ferak with me. She deserves to know what’s going on.”

Barbara shrugged, and clacked her fingers on her keyboard. “If you say so. I’ll tell you any more I find. Gotta admit, I’m curious about this thing too.”

“We’ll get it,” Renee promised, and hung up. Over the next hour or so she pored over her newspapers, putting together as many pieces as she could about where and how to find Ferak again. It was only when she was as confident as she could be that she picked the phone up again, and dialed the number that Ivy had given her to make their date.



The Harley Scout office was a flurry of babbled, exciting words when the girls’ parents returned that evening. “Mama, mama, we saw a shark-man and Miss Harley beat up his butt!”

“I almost died, Mom, look!”

“And Batgirl was there and I bet Batman too, but he was invisible!”

Harley gave each of the parents a nervous chuckle as she handed back a chattering child. “What great imaginations these kids have, huh?”

The twin girls gazed up from either side of their mother. “We’re coming back tomorrow, right?” “Aren’t we?” “All week?” “All summer?”

“Well…I don’t know what you do with them, but I’ve never seen these two want to go back to a day care before,” the mother smiled at Harley. “We might have to re-enroll for your next session after all.”

“Great!” Harley beamed and showed them out the door. “I’d love to have them back, as much as you want. Tell a friend!” She called after them, the last to leave, and she squealed in the empty room. Her scouts had faced their first real test, the first thing that might have proved too much and Harley had passed with flying colors and not a single suspicious look. The window would have to be replaced but that would be simple, much more simple than gaining back a parent’s trust. All of her girls were still set to return bright and early, and there wasn’t a cloud in Harley’s mental sky.

“I did it!” She shouted out into the room, pigtails bouncing as she started to clean up. She wondered if one day, she could get enough of that trust to bring in Bonnie and Clyde for show-and-tell.