DC: I am Dr Doom

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*****

When Pamela purred in my ear, the image of the sultry minx Poison Ivy flashed across my mind.

"I believe in helping people become productive members of society," I replied with a smile as my arm went around Pamela's waist.

[ #42 SCORES FOR THE RUS-TERRORS ]

[ THE SCORE IS 4 - 0 ]

"Come on, Pammy, let's go get a beer." Harley huffed with a pout. "These girls are missing their kickassitude, it's so sad."

Crushing up the bag of half-finished popcorn, Harley threw the offending bag into the bin as Pamela and I got up to leave with her. Shaking my head at the situation, I followed behind Harley as Pamela put her hand around my waist. I guess it was time to go to the bar.

***

We had gotten out of the roller derby pretty late into the night and it was time to hit the bar. Pamela sat in the back while Harley took a shotgun in the passenger seat. That was alright with me, right until she decided to stick her head out of the window and somehow still looking sexy doing it.

"No, Harley come back inside," Pamela yelled as she stretched from the back seat to grab hold of Harley's jeans, pulling them down quite far. Honestly, I didn't want to help because I was busy driving, but from the sensational view I was getting, I wouldn't even if I wanted to. Then again, with the way they were going at it, I guess I had to intervene.

I was getting the feeling that when you were with two powerful, deadly, strong-willed, and drop dead sexy women like Harley and Pam, an even stronger presence was needed to keep them moving in the same direction. I suspected that I would need to be the center of gravity in this relationship to keep the peace, the sun around which they all orbited.

"Come on, Pammy, I just wanna get some fresh air is all," Harley whined. Even her whining was getting me hard.

"You can get air without sticking your head outside," Pamela replied smoothly.

"There is no such thing as fresh air within Gotham, unless we are at my home or turn the car's air filters on," I interrupted, stopping both of them mid-conversation. The look they both gave me said enough, but I was already a step ahead with the windows smoothly closing.

Once that was complete, I activated the advanced electronic filters I had installed within the car and turned up the air conditioning. They both paused for a moment, a look of wonder on their faces, as they took in the fresh breeze that was coming out of the vents, like they were standing in an untouched valley, with a fresh spring breeze on their faces, beside a mirror-like mountain lake.

"Is this what you have installed back at the house?" Pamela asked as she waved a hand generally in the direction of the back seat's air vent.

"Yes... and no," I answered succinctly as I made a left turn.

"Wha da ya mean?" Harley asked from the side, still taking deep and exaggerated breaths through her nose, putting a small smile on my face at this beautiful and deadly woman's silliness.

"The force field shielding that I have over our house does more than just protect us from nuclear explosions," I began, as I mulled over how to answer, without giving away too many of my secrets. Harley's mind was still unknown to me, still likely angry over my killing of her paramour in the Joker, and had not yet made a commitment to me.

"The shield also filters out all the many artificial chemicals, toxins, pollutants and other particulates that float around the city, allowing us to have the best air quality in all of Gotham, even better than the old growth forest surrounding Wayne Manor. In fact, you'd have to travel to the heart of the rainforest in South America, or a pristine world untouched by sentient life to breathe such clean air."

"That's some badass shit! Why haven't you given this out to the world? Just breathing it in is invigorating and soothing," Pamela asked from the back seat area, taking slow, deep breaths, with a dopey smile on her face. Her powers must make her particularly sensitive to air quality. Going out into Gotham probably shocked her systems after spending so much time on my lands.

"Because I have not yet built my business empire, and I will give nothing valuable away for free. To give something desirable and wanted away for free is to imply it has no value, thereby making people distrust it and diminishing their desire for it. Have we not spoken about this in the past?" I asked, looking in my rear view mirror to take a look at her. "That is human nature, my dear. No, they will have to pay for all my advancements and discoveries, one way or another."

"Yea, Pammy, let them pay!" Harley chirped with a smile of her own, one that grew even wider when Pamela let out a very unladylike snort from the back. As batshit crazy as Harley acted sometimes, she still had a doctorate in psychology, and likely had an even better understanding of psychology at work than I did. Then again with my experiments as a one year old child she hasn't seen human emotions as closely as I have.

The conversation came to a quick end since we had finally pulled into a parking space next to the bar. Getting out of the car, I went around and opened the door for Pamela while Harley was looking around and making various faces of disgust.

"You're right, God, your car smells loads better."

Laughing at her assessment, I activated the car's 'Active Defense System" from my key fob. With the system active anyone trying to steal my car would get hit with a non-lethal energy pulse from the neural shock emitters I had designed. The system could be set to discharge a lethal pulse, but American law looked very unfavorably on lethal defense measures to protect mere property. No, in the here and now it was too much trouble to set it to lethal.

The phasers of Star Trek, with their stun setting, had actually served as the inspiration for the development of this technology. In the future I had plans to sell this technology as a 100% safe, non-lethal weapon on the open market. It was decades more advanced than the current Tasers, since it had a much greater range and no wires were required. I had a strong suspicion that civilian law enforcement would get on bended knees to buy this new technology from me as it would make their lives easier. That kind of goodwill from law enforcement was worth its weight in gold and would offer me many protections from the Justice League.

Harley walked in front while Pamela placed her arm within my own, as we walked the short distance to the front of the bar.

"AYE! HOW ARE YOU GUYS?!"

"DAMNIT, QUINN! NOT SO LOUD!"

Snorting in amusement, I held the door open for Pamela as she went through, giving me a small smile in thanks for my good manners, and then followed in myself, only to find Harley crouching on the ground in front of the bar owner, Mary. Mary, in turn, had one of those scolding motherly looks on her face and a broken mug of beer on the ground. Getting down to her level, I helped Mary in gathering up the broken glasses while Harley had a sheepish smile on her face.

The bar was suddenly silent, but I paid it no mind, even though I heard some mutterings in the background. With the broken glass all picked up, I gave her a nod before turning around. With that taken care of, I went to the booth where Pamela liked to sit.

Harley slotted herself in the middle, while I took the outer right side of the U-shaped booth. A hockey game was playing on one TV, while on another was the current football game. Ignoring this, I took a look around for the other frequent patrons of this fine establishment.

The Scarecrow wasn't here, and neither were a few other notable villains. With Arkham empty, I knew it was only a matter of time before this place was full of newly escaped villains eager for their first real drink in months/years, but I was not going to say anything about it.

The bar's current customers were not very high on the totem pole of Gotham criminality. Polka-Dot man, Kite Man, (I shit you not, those were their real villain names in the comics and here) and a few others were here, but it was the Penguin himself that really caught my attention in this group.

The Penguin had more connections than anyone truly realized, and I could use one or two contacts right now. He was also one of those ultra-rare villains with a sense of decorum, restraint, self-control and someone who understood the value of subtlety. That made him worthy of some respect.

Mary came around with our orders soon after we took our seats. Pamela got something organic, while Harley went for a large nacho platter dripping in artificial nacho cheese, while I just went for something in between. While Mary took our orders, I had her deliver a note and placed whatever Penguin was ordering on my tab to be paid at the end of the night.

Mary left with a good word, and we settled back into the booth with our drinks. Before we could settle into a real conversation, Harley vanished beneath the table like a spider monkey on a sugar rush and shot off towards the nearest pool table. The smile at the corners of Pamela's lips said it all, so instead of complaining, I relaxed back in my seat and put my arm around her shoulders.

Before long, Pamela snuggled into my side as we waited for the food to arrive, but then a 'thug' walked up to us. And that was seriously the best way to describe this guy, as he seriously looked like a stereotypical, almost cliche, depiction of a thug. This thug was walking like he was a 70s era pimp, and the ladies should fall before him and his sheer masculinity. The thug made it within ten steps of our booth before he tripped on the rug and went down face first. And no, I had nothing to do with that.

"Bloody fool," Pamela scoffed at my side, before taking a sip of whatever vegan-thing she had ordered.

Chuckling at the man, I silently agreed with Pamela as we both waited for the buffoon to pick himself up off the ground and salvage whatever tiny shred of dignity he had left. The bar had burst into a roar of laughter at his failure to look cool. I did notice the look of sheer incredulity on Cobblepot's face from his location.

The look on his face was truly something to behold, and I was trying hard not to follow along with everyone else and laugh out loud; I had an image to maintain after all. The thug pulled himself up and dusted himself off with embarrassment clear on his face.

Taking in his features, I saw that he stood at approximately five feet ten inches with an oversized build, and the way his hands were shaped like ham chops, told me he was likely a brawler in style. It was sandy blond hair with pale skin on the face of a pug; damn, was this fucking guy ugly. He finished what he was doing then came forward the rest of the way to our booth.

"I would like to extend an invitation from my boss to join him at his table," the thug spoke in a gravelly voice that sounded like it came from someone who had chain smoked for years.

"Please send my regrets to your boss, but I must respectfully decline," I answered instantly, before the thug could carry on further. "Please also pass this message along, though, I am looking for the man that's known to never miss."

The thug took a menacing step forward, obviously far, far too used to resorting to violence when his boss' 'invitations' weren't instantly agreed to. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't your garden variety mark, nor in the mood to get my night interrupted, so I had to impress upon him the error of his ways by pressing on his mind for a moment with my killing intent, while staring at him hard, something I had shamelessly ripped off from Naruto.

When that message was sent, the thug positively scurried back to his boss to convey my message. Pamela and I watched as Cobblepot's thug whispered in his ear, causing the man to turn in our direction for a moment, meeting my eyes without condemnation. Then he raised his glass towards us and gave a small nod, while I regally inclined my head in his direction in turn.

"YARGGHHH! YOU BITCH! YOU CHEATED!"

"AYE, NO FIGHTING IN THE BAR!"

"NAHH! UHH, YOU JUST SUCK!"

"CRAZY FUCKING CLOWN!"

One of those C-words was obviously a trigger for Harley, as she instantly reared back and broke her pool cue over the guy's head in response. Before Pamela and I could both get up to stop the fiasco in progress. Mary came running from behind the counter with a cattle prod, of all things, in her hands.

The first to get jabbed with the thing was the large irate man that was currently hunched over after Harley had smacked him, looking like he wanted to continue the fight. The cattle prod was jabbed right into the men's left butt cheek, and it was ultra-effective at ending any thoughts of further violence.

"YAICK!"

The man squealed as he jumped three feet in the air. The broken pool stick that was in Harley's hand, still raised above her head to whack the guy again, was instantly dropped. Before anyone could figure out what was what, Mary turned towards Harley with the cattle prod in hand.

Before she could make contact Harley leaped over the pool table and ran directly towards our booth. This won't be good, I thought to myself as Harley positively dove under the table and came up between Pamela and myself. With Harley now slotted between us, I was given a reminder on why Mary was feared, even by stone cold killers and villains, and why those same people considered her bar a neutral zone of sorts.

Within mere milliseconds, Mary was at our table with the cattle prod sparking, but that wasn't all. Mary had multiplied. Mary wasn't only a speedster, but she also had duplication powers and wasn't afraid to hurt people. Now I know why the whispers called her the 'one-woman army.'

"My apologies," I offered, holding up my hands to stop her from attacking. The cattle prod was inches from Harley's chest and the electricity was crackling fiercely. "How about a deal?"

*****

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