Harley Quinn

The Gotham City Carnival had been open for three days, and it smelled like popcorn and funnel cake and something else — something fizzy and suspicious and slightly off.

Batgirl noticed the moment she landed on the rooftop above the carnival gate. Even from up high, she could see the balloons drifting sideways when no wind was blowing, and hear a jangly carnival tune playing just a little too fast.

Then she spotted her. Red-and-black costume. Two bouncing pigtails. A grin wide enough to swallow a lamppost whole.

Harley Quinn.

"Oh, this should be interesting," Batgirl murmured.

It started small. A cotton candy machine in the center of the carnival began blowing enormous soap bubbles instead of spun sugar — each one the size of a beach ball, floating and wobbling over the crowd. Children shrieked with delight. Parents grabbed their hats. A vendor slipped on a burst bubble and knocked over an entire tower of stuffed animals.

SPLAT. SPLAT. SPLAT.

Then the carousel sped up. Not dangerously fast — just fast enough to make everyone dizzy and giggling and completely confused about which direction was which.

Harley Quinn somersaulted over the ticket booth, landed on the merry-go-round horse at the very tip-top, flung a handful of confetti in the air, and shrieked with laughter. "SURPRISE, GOTHAM! THE SHOW'S JUST STARTING!"

Batgirl swung down from the rooftop on her grappling line and hit the ground running.

Through the haunted house they went — Harley bounding between the cardboard ghosts and strobe lights, Batgirl close behind, ducking under a wobbling mirror that Harley kicked sideways just to slow her down. CRASH. Glass showered the floor, but Batgirl had already leaped over it.

Out through the haunted house exit and onto the midway. Harley launched herself onto a game booth, used it as a springboard, caught a high wire strung between two light poles, and ran across it on her toes like she was born in the air.

BAM — Batgirl fired her grappling hook upward, caught the same wire, and pulled herself up in one smooth motion. Now they were both up high, above the crowd, the carnival lights twinkling below them like fallen stars.

"Ooooh, she's good!" Harley called back, and performed a perfect backflip along the wire.

Then the oversized props came out.

From somewhere — no one was quite sure where — a giant foam mallet appeared in Harley's hand. She swung it at a popcorn cart with a BONG sound that echoed across the whole carnival, and the cart wobbled. Then she aimed at a tower of stacked food stalls. That was the moment it stopped being funny and started being dangerous.

Batgirl saw it before anyone else did. If that tower fell, it would come down right on the crowd below.

She did not have time to think. She reached into her utility belt, closed her fingers around the bolas — a pair of weights connected by a cord — and calculated the angle in half a second.

She threw.

The cord zipped through the air, wrapped around Harley's ankles with a SNAP, and Harley's famous acrobatic flip turned into a very undignified tumble. She landed in a net of colorful festival streamers, ankles wrapped tight, arms flopped out to the sides.

"Aww," said Harley Quinn, genuinely impressed.

Batgirl landed beside her, checked that the stall tower was still standing, and called the Gotham City police on her wrist communicator.

While they waited, she crouched down and looked at Harley. "The bubbles were actually kind of wonderful," she said. "The kids loved them."

Harley blinked.

"But when your jokes knock things over and put people at risk," Batgirl continued, "they stop being jokes."

Harley was quiet for a moment, which was unusual. Then she said, "Okay but the bubbles were great, right?"

Batgirl almost smiled. Just almost.

Later, after the police had arrived and the carnival had settled down, Batgirl walked through the midway helping the vendors straighten their stalls, pick up the confetti, and restack the stuffed animals. She found a little girl standing alone, clutching a half-popped bubble in her hands, looking disappointed that the chaos was over.

Batgirl reached into her utility belt, pulled out a small bottle of her forensic soap solution, blew a perfect golden bubble into the evening air, and watched the little girl's face light up completely.

Sometimes, she thought, the best part of a fight is what you do after it's over.