Harley leaned back against the damp concrete wall of the lair, her grin sharp in the dim light. "Funny you should mention money. Actually, the Joker had about two million dollars stashed away before Bats nailed him last time."
Pamela's head tilted, her eyes narrowing. "Two million?"
Harley twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger and nodded like it was nothing. "Mm-hm. And then your dad—Commissioner Gordon himself—confiscated it. Now it's sittin' nice and cozy in lockup at Precinct Twenty-Four."
Barbara froze mid-step, her expression snapping cold. "You're saying they just have two million dollars in cash sitting inside an evidence lockup?" Her tone was sharp enough to cut steel.
"Of course," Harley said with a shrug. "I always keep track of where the cash goes, just in case we ever had to rob the cops and take it back."
Barbara turned slowly toward Pamela, raising an eyebrow. "Hey Pamela, how do you feel about our first robbery being a police precinct?"
Pamela's lips twitched into something dangerous. She tapped her Midnight Rose bracelet and thought for a long moment. Then, with deliberate calm, she said, "I'm up for it. But not loud. Not yet. We don't want Batman alerted too soon." Her smile curved sharper. "I've got a plan."
Barbara and Harley exchanged curious glances. Pamela's confidence radiated.
"Trust me," she whispered. "It's going to be beautiful."
Barbara clapped her hands together, her eyes alive. "All right then. Let's get moving, ladies."
The trio strode back toward their gray sedan. Harley patted the hood, smudging it with her glove. "You gals got yourselves the unicorn—the most unnoticeable car in Gotham. Why don't we just call it that? The Unicorn."
Pamela glanced at Barbara. Barbara raised a brow, then nodded.
Pamela's smile widened. "She's right."
Barbara's voice was decisive. "Unicorn it is."
Barbara pressed a nanotech switch on her key fob. The concrete wall in front of them rippled like water before folding inward, revealing a spiral tunnel. She slid into the driver's seat, the engine humming with restrained power. The wall sealed behind them as the Unicorn rolled forward, climbing through a drainage system until they emerged beneath a bridge into Gotham's fog-drenched.
As the city lights slid past, Harley leaned forward from the backseat, her chin on the headrest. "So, Pamela, how exactly are we pulling two million out of a police precinct crawling with cops?"
Pamela's lips curved with quiet satisfaction. "Who says we're going in ourselves? I have plants, remember?" She flicked her bracelet, and its roses glimmered faintly in the dashboard glow. "Wait until we get there. It'll be fun."
Barbara chuckled under her breath, her hands steady on the wheel. "I think I know where this is going."
They drove in silence until the gray bulk of Precinct Twenty-Four loomed ahead, its harsh fluorescent lights buzzing against the night. Barbara steered into a side street and eased the car into the shadows a block away.
Pulling out her phone, Barbara swiped across the screen, her fingers swift and sure. "All right. Every external camera within two blocks is disabled. No digital trace, no traffic footage."
Pamela looked at her approvingly. "You're getting more efficient."
Barbara gave a small shrug. "I learned from the best. Always cover your tracks."
Pamela leaned closer to the windshield, her eyes gleaming. "Harley, watch this."
They slipped from the car, ski masks pulled low, gloves snug over their fingers. Pamela led them to a storm grate, crouching as the metallic stink of water rose from the gutter.
Harley wrinkled her nose. "What are we doing with a sewer grate?"
Pamela only smiled. She raised her left hand, the bracelet catching the streetlight. One of the midnight-black roses detached and fluttered into her palm. She whispered something too low to hear, then let it slip through the grate. It fell with a faint splash, vanishing into the current.
"All right," Pamela said softly. "Now we wait."
Barbara straightened, her body taut with anticipation. Harley bounced on her heels, restless energy vibrating off her. Pamela stood serene, her eyes half-lidded as she reached for the bond with her creation.
Beneath Gotham, the rose bloomed in darkness. Its petals unfurled as roots lashed outward, gripping slimy concrete pipes. Guided by Pamela's will, it surged forward, water parting around its body as it climbed through the drainage system.
The plant slithered into Precinct Twenty-Four through the staff bathroom's floor drain. Water splashed across the tiles as thick vines pushed upward.
"Hey, what the hell—?" an officer muttered, leaning closer.
The sink bulged and cracked. With a wet rip, the midnight rose exploded outward. Its petals split wide, revealing a mouth lined with jagged, thorny teeth. It hissed, low and venomous.
Gunfire erupted. Shots cracked against the tiled walls.
"Jesus Christ!" another officer shouted, fumbling for his radio.
A whip of vine lashed out, wrapping around a uniformed man's torso. His scream tore through the room before the plant yanked him off his feet and shoved him into its gaping maw. Blood spattered the mirror as the rose's petals closed, shredding him to pulp in seconds.
The surviving officers stumbled back in horror, weapons shaking in their hands. "Oh my God! What the hell is that thing?!"
Pamela staggered slightly against the curb outside, exhaling sharply. A satisfied smile touched her lips. "Looks like my rose just had its first snack."
Barbara laughed once, the sound edged with nerves. "That's dark."
Harley clapped her hands together, practically glowing with glee. "And totally badass."
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