The elevator chimed softly as Pamela and Barbara stepped inside, descending hand in hand. When the doors opened to the ground floor, the officer at the desk gave them a polite nod. Pamela returned a small smile—her presence already approved by Commissioner Gordon. They crossed the lobby and stepped out into the city air, where Barbara's battered compact car leaned into a pothole, one hubcap missing.
Pamela eyed it with faint disdain. "So… where exactly are we getting a car?"
"Cars R Us," Barbara answered without hesitation as she opened the driver's door.
Pamela paused, raising a brow. "You're serious right now? We're buying a car in cash… from a place called Cars R Us?"
Barbara slid behind the wheel, deadpan. "Don't look down on the name. They deal discreetly in high-end vehicles that don't attract attention. What matters is under the hood."
Pamela sighed, then lowered herself into the passenger seat. "Okay, that makes sense. But if they deal in illicit tech… won't that attract Batman?"
Barbara started the engine, the car rattling to life with a cough of exhaust. "No. Everything they sell is technically legal. Batman doesn't bother with the dealership. He only cares when people use those cars for crimes. That's where we'll outmaneuver him."
The car lurched onto the street, its frame groaning over every bump. Barbara's hands tightened on the wheel as she spoke. "Once we buy the vehicle, I'll bring it into the police department's old machine shop and retrofit it myself. I'll strip out anything traceable and replace it with custom modifications—cop suspension, high-grade tires, plated doors. I'll even use my nanites to reinforce the chassis."
Pamela turned, her green eyes locked on Barbara. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"
Barbara's lips twitched faintly. "Of course. The second you said 'let's build a criminal empire,' I started planning our next six months together."
Pamela leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Barbara's cheek. "You already knew we were going to end up together the moment we met in that underground lair, didn't you?"
Barbara's face colored as she stammered, "What? No. I mean—maybe. I didn't—"
Pamela's smile softened as she leaned back. "You're such a sweetheart."
The traffic light ahead flicked red, and Barbara's car groaned to a stop. Her phone buzzed on the console. She glanced down briefly at the message glowing on the screen: [Harley Quinn: Sure thing, sugar. Let's grab coffee after your car shopping spree. Can't wait!]
Barbara read it aloud, eyes flicking to Pamela. "Looks like Harley Quinn responded. She'll meet us after we're done at Cars R Us."
Pamela's lips curved slightly. "Are we going out for coffee?"
"Of course. Harley loves coffee," Barbara replied, tapping the wheel lightly. "And right now, she's not hanging around with the Joker."
Pamela crossed her legs, gazing out the window at the blur of pedestrians. "That makes perfect sense. He's in Arkham right now, isn't he?"
Barbara nodded, the light turning green. "Yup. Got caught in that museum explosion last month. Probably escape in a few weeks, knowing his schedule."
"Sounds about right," Pamela said.
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