Hunter x Gotham

Harley sat alone in their hideout, cross-legged on the old couch, twirling her mallet like a baton. The Joker was off chasing Bats again. Same ol' song and dance. She huffed, blowing a stray blonde pigtail from her face.

"Another night, another Bat-chase," she muttered. "He gets all giddy playin' tag with the big bad Bat, and where does that leave me? Sittin' here talkin' to myself. Again."

She flopped onto her back, staring at the cracked ceiling. The hideout felt… quiet. Too quiet. Joker's absence used to sting — made her wanna chase after him, beg for attention. Now?

"Feels kinda nice."

Her fingers drummed against her stomach, mind drifting.

She'd heard the whispers. Penguin, Two-Face, Maroni, Black Mask — gone. Not taken out in a turf war, not gunned down in a back alley. No, these were performances. Bodies found twisted, torn, and arranged like macabre art. Even Gotham's worst were afraid to say his name.

Hisoka.

She bit her lip, eyes narrowing. "Not just some whack-job with a gun. This guy's… different. Careful. Creative." Her lips curled into a small smile. "Kinda like me."

She sat up, tapping her mallet against the floor. "But why's he do it, huh? Not for the money. Not for power. Just for the fun of it." She tilted her head. "What kinda fella gets off on makin' people squirm like that?"

A shiver ran through her. Not fear. Curiosity.

"J said he don't need an audience," she mused. "But this guy? He puts on a show — and he don't even wait for applause." Her eyes glimmered. "I betcha he doesn't leave his girl behind either."

She stood, pacing. "When was the last time puddin' surprised me, huh? Every job's the same. Bats shows up, Joker makes some big speech, and then we run. Over and over and over." She tightened her grip on the mallet. "Where's the fun in that?"

Her mind wandered back to that night at the docks. She'd watched from the shadows as the crime bosses tried to hide from him. They never stood a chance.

The way he moved — all smooth, no wasted effort. Each kill was a performance. And the way he smiled… like it was all just a game.

She felt her heart race. "What's a girl gotta do to get a little excitement around here?"

She grabbed her jacket, slipping it on. "Maybe it's time I found someone who knows how to have a little fun."

As she stepped into the Gotham night, she couldn't stop grinning. The Joker had been her first thrill. Maybe Hisoka would be her next.

---

Meanwhile, across the city, Hisoka stood perched on a rooftop, crimson eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at the city below. The moon hung low, silver light glimmering off the blood still caked on his fingers. The fight played in his mind, every strike and counter a vivid thrill.

Deathstroke had been delicious. Calculated. Precise. The kind of opponent who didn't flinch, even when death danced mere inches from his throat. Hisoka licked his lips, savoring the memory.

"Mmm... you were fun," he mused, twirling a blood-stained card between his fingers. "But you never did smile for me."

Slade had lunged, blade flashing, every strike a masterclass in efficiency. Hisoka had dodged, body twisting with unnatural grace, bungee gum snapping tight around Deathstroke's sword arm. The mercenary hadn't panicked. No wasted movement, only cold fury. Even when Hisoka slipped behind him, whispered sweet nothings into his ear, and left a deep gash across his side, Deathstroke had only growled.

"You fight like a man who's already seen death," Hisoka had purred, eyes gleaming.

Slade's only answer was a punch to the face.

Hisoka chuckled, rubbing his jaw at the memory. "I'll admit, you hit harder than most."

And Shiva? Ah, Lady Shiva was exquisite. Every move, every breath, a dance. Where Deathstroke was power, she was fluidity, slipping through his attacks like water through fingers. She had nearly taken his head off twice, but that only made the game sweeter. He could still feel the sting of her knuckles against his jaw.

"She was fast," he whispered, tilting his head. "But not fast enough."

She had read him well, her strikes sharp and precise, each one coming closer and closer to finding its mark. For a moment, he thought she might win. Oh, how he had savored that moment — the narrow dodge, the flicker of danger, the rush of adrenaline. It made his skin tingle just thinking about it.

"I almost didn't want it to end." He giggled softly, licking a speck of dried blood from his finger. "Almost."

He stretched, bones popping, and laughed quietly. Gotham was proving to be the playground he'd always dreamed of.

"Still," he murmured, looking out over the darkened city. "There's always room for improvement. Who's next, I wonder?" His grin widened. "Maybe someone will surprise me."

The wind whispered through the night, carrying his soft laughter into the dark.

---

Deep under the Wayne Mansion,The Batcave was as quiet as usual, the monitors illuminating the place.. Ivy moved slowly, her steps are slow and heavy, her fingers trailing along the cool metal of the Batcomputer's console for support.

"You're improving," Batman said from across the cave, not looking up from the data scrolling across the screen. "Your strength is returning."

Ivy scoffed, brushing a lock of red hair from her face. "Feels more like learning to walk all over again. Don't throw me a parade just yet."

"Oh, trust me," Alfred quipped as he emerged from the shadows, carrying a tray of tea. "We were planning a grand celebration. Balloons, streamers, perhaps even a marching band."

Ivy gave him a dry look but accepted the cup he offered, taking a slow sip. "Mmm. Chamomile?"

"I assumed you wouldn't appreciate the irony of peppermint," Alfred replied, straight-faced.

Batman glanced at them over his shoulder but said nothing, his focus returning to the screen. The silence settled again, save for the quiet tapping of keys.

Ivy shifted her weight, testing her balance. "So, what are you obsessing over now? More crime lords mysteriously disappearing?"

Batman tensed. "Hisoka."

Her brow furrowed. "The creepy clown you won't stop brooding about?" She set her tea down. "What about him?"

"He fought Deathstroke and Shiva," Batman said, voice low. "In the same night. Walked away without a scratch."

Ivy raised an eyebrow. "So he likes to pick fights with psychos. Sounds like half this city."

"No," Batman said. "It's different. Deathstroke and Shiva don't lose. Not like this. They were... outplayed."

"And you think you can do better?" Ivy challenged, crossing her arms.

Batman didn't answer. Alfred cleared his throat delicately.

"Master Wayne has been particularly grim lately," Alfred said, stepping beside Ivy. "Which, considering his usual disposition, is saying something."

"I can hear you," Batman muttered.

"Yes, I rather hoped you would," Alfred replied.

Ivy smirked, shifting her weight again. The soreness in her limbs was fading, replaced with a quiet strength. "Well, if this Hisoka guy is as bad as you say, maybe you should stop brooding and start planning. Or do you just stand around looking menacing until the problem solves itself?"

Batman turned, fixing her with a hard stare. "I am planning."

Ivy held his gaze for a moment before rolling her eyes. "Right. Planning. You mean standing in front of a computer for hours and not sleeping. Very productive."

Alfred suppressed a chuckle. "She does have a point, sir."

Batman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't need advice on how to do my job."

"Clearly," Ivy said dryly, pushing off the console and taking another careful step forward. "But you might need a nap. Or a hobby."

Alfred raised his teacup in a silent toast. "Hear, hear."

Batman shook his head, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "If you're both done... I have work to do."

"Of course," Alfred said, ever the dutiful butler. "I shall prepare the Bat-blanket and Bat-pillow for later."

Ivy laughed softly, the sound echoing through the cavern. For the first time in a long while, the Batcave felt a little less cold.