The Moment (Harley Quinn FanFic)

"Huh, born from the slums. Cut from the womb had dope in my lungs. 28 grams if I wanna feel buzzed, 28 Xans if I wanna feel numb." Harley sings to herself as she dances and makes hand motions to match the song while doing the dishes. "Fucked in the head, edge of my bed. Glock cocked back while I pray to the dead. If they want play, got the gang on the way

Dial 333 for the God of the grey"

"The fuck are you singing over there?" Polaris asks looking over from the table where he was reading the Daily Isle the local newspaper. "Sounds like your a depressed gang banger or some shit."

"Hush you. This song is a fucking banger." She replies as she begins putting all of the rinsed-off dishes into the dishwasher. "Besides, who are you to talk? What are you, some old man reading his morning paper while sipping his coffee?"

Polaris furrowed his brow at her comment. "Touche." He replies as she gives him a quick peck and sits down herself. She smiles as she sees the text from Naevia and she gleefully replies.

While she didn't like the idea, she couldn't stop her from resuming her journey. So, they compromised that they would text every day at least twice. Once in the morning and once in the evening. It also didn't help that Team Rockets leader had finally been brought to light and now multiple terrorist attacks were being made across Kanto.

The only thing that brought her ease of mind was that all the attacks were on high-ranking Government and Research facilities and that Naevia had four shadow troopers always watching over her and Agron as they did their thing.

"Wanna hit the mall later? Been a while since our last date." She asks not looking away from her phone.

"Sure. Granted we went on a date like two days ago."

"Vacation and dates are two different things dear."

"If you say so luv. Not that I care. I'll use any excuse to show off my gorgeous wife."

"Hehehe. Of course, you would." She giggles looking over at him.

"Huuuuuuuh." Sighs Misty as she rests her chin in her left palm.

" 'Scuse me Mrs. Ketchum..."

"What Jace?" She asks interrupting him. Not out of rudeness. She was just irritated, annoyed, frustrated, and most of all incredibly horny. Ash came home for half a day and left her again with little to no explanation. That in turn has led to her quite frequently might she add, to be quite snappy towards her assistant.

"Rude." He says jokingly before continuing. "A letter from the Champion has arrived. Says he'll be returning in two days or so. He also said something about you'll be receiving two Shadow Guards by the names of Flame and Smoke."

"REALLY!" She asks slamming both hands onto the desk and jolting up. "I can't wait to give him a good beating for leaving me. How could he leave such a gorgeous wife behind whi... Wait a minute? Shadow Guards. Da fuck is that?"

"Well, based on the name. They are guards who protect you from the shadows obviously." He says matter of factly.

"Oh. Silly me. I should have known that; whatever was I thinking?" She says sarcastically and rolling her eyes.

"Either way. They should be arriving soon. Let me know if you need anything before I leave."

"Got it. Thanks Jace." Misty says as her assistant turns and leaves the office.

Tick...

Tick...

Tick...

Tick...

Tick...

"OH MY FUCKING GODS!" Misty cries out in annoyance as the clock on the walls ticks away, seemingly as if it was reminding her she was wasting time. It was already 1748. The gym had closed an hour and forty-eight minutes ago. And here she was. Still waiting for two fucking bodyguards. How the hell could she trust anyone with her life when she couldn't trust them to be on time? 

Then, as if they had been summoned.

T-hissssss

As the heavy durasteel door of the office slid open with a mechanical hiss, two imposing figures stepped into the room, their presence palpable even through the thick, tense air. Clad in armor as dark and unyielding as obsidian, the two figures commanded attention with every step they took.

The first bore the unmistakable bulk of what she even recognized as a chain gun, its menacing form gleaming with the promise of devastation. Strapped across his broad chest was a harness of reinforced plasteel, securing the weapon in place, while his gauntleted hands gripped the handles with practiced ease. The cannon itself was a formidable sight to behold, its rotating barrels radiating an aura of deadly efficiency. A series of intricate mechanisms adorned its surface, indicating modifications made for maximum firepower and reliability. Every inch of the weapon seemed meticulously maintained, a testament to the commando's dedication to his craft.

Beside him stood his counterpart, bearing a Flamethrower, a weapon as fearsome as it was ruthless. The Flamethrower, mounted on his back, boasted a sleek design, its nozzle gleaming ominously in the dim light of the office. A series of canisters, each filled with a volatile mixture of accelerant, were neatly arrayed along the commando's armor, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. The commando's helmet, adorned with intricate engravings reminiscent of ancient designs, exuded a menancing aura as he stood at attention.

Both of them wore armor crafted from the finest materials, its surface etched with the insignia that she didn't recognise, but even she knew it was for their allegiance and unwavering loyalty to it. Plates of durasteel overlaid with ablative plating encased their bodies, providing unparalleled protection against all manner of threats. Every surface of their armor seemed honed to perfection, bearing the scars of countless battles and skirmishes.

As they halted before the desk, they radiated a frightening aura, their expressions hidden behind the featureless visors of their helmets and she unconsciously swallowed.

"Good evening Ms. Ketchum. I am CT-1138, you may call me Smoke. This is my partner, CT-2451, also known as Flame. We are to serve and protect you to the best of our abilities." The one welding the chaingun says while also gesturing with his left hand towards the other one. "Apologies for our tardiness. Our superior wanted to ensure we had every possible rules of engagement and gear needed and memorised."

"O-oh. That's fine. I assumed something came up." She replies nervously. "Um. Not to sound rude... But won't you two draw lots of attention."

"Normally yes. But we are from Nightwing's prestigious commando unit." He says and they shimmer out of sight.

"W-where?"

"We have the most advanced tech one could wish for." The one called Flame says as they reappear on the edges of her desk. "Thus, from henceforth we will be known as your Shadow Guards."

"But, your weapons are so unwieldy. Won't they get in your way?" She asks.

"Negative. Our load-out changes based on your location. These are the best load-outs for defending your office or escaping from here. If we were to go to, let's say a mall, then our load-outs will be something along the lines of compact assault and marksmen rifles." Smoke explains.

"Ah." She says simply. She had nothing to say nor could she think of anything to say. "Fuck it." She mumbles and the two look at each other before looking back at her.

"You'll be taking responsibility for anything that happens right?" She asks as she stands up.

"Correct." Both answer. "Orders Ma'am?"

"Very well." She sighs. "Let's go home then boys."