Enter: Connor Hawke

[newoutsiders]

Amusement Mile, 91 Sorkin Avenue. Gotham City.

Home.

You knew it was going to be hard, making a clean start for yourself far away from the Arrow Clan. You didn’t think it was going to be this hard. But with most of your boxes unpacked, and tenants displaced by a gentrified Burnside filing into this once abandoned entertainment district- thanks to your generous, rent controlled prices- you’re finally back in the landlording game.

At least this was a cheap get. Even with all the gentrification going on in this neighborhood, for some reason the buildings down this part of Sorkin Avenue were priced to move. You figure it’s just Gotham- people get scared and leave town all the time. Fortunately for your tenants, they’ve got a superhero for a landlord.

There’s still a lot to do. There’s that zen garden you want to put up on the roof, that isn’t even close to finished. The Bailey family on the second floor still isn’t getting water in their kids’ bathroom. Not to mention—

You’re interrupted from meditating in your spartan spare bedroom by the ring of a doorbell.

Comments

[not_easy_being_green]

What is it now? He does a quick mental tally as he walk towards the door - the Baileys should be set for now, and the plumber said he couldn't get here until tomorrow at the earliest. The movers are all done, and the heat is working - not well, but enough for now - so what else could it be? Hopefully nothing too expensive, whatever it is - he still has the funds Ollie had set him up with, but he'd really rather not dip into them.

He opens the door.

[newoutsiders]

You're met with the sight of a petit, ivory white woman in a tankini, red yoga pants, and no shoes on her ivory-white feet. A huge wicker basket full of cheese wheels, wine, and other nice things obscures her upper body and head.

"Howdy, neighbah! Got you a welcome gift! You gonna let me in or what?"

[not_easy_being_green]

"... hello?"

Connor's a little nonplussed, but not overly so. He's a little too familiar with, well, random women showing up at his apartment. He's glad his costume is still packed away safely, though, a thought that occurs to him halfway through holding the door open for her.

"Sorry, you're not one of my tenants? Are you from one of the nearby buildings? I'm Connor Hawke. You?"

[newoutsiders]

"Harley Quinn! No relation."

She unceremoniously drops the wicker basket on the ground, bottle shattering and cheese spilling everywhere, to vigorously grab and shake your hand with both of hers.

"I own the place next doah! Figured I'd take a lookie-loo at the new talent. Maybe talk some shop." She stresses the last "p."

She lets go of your hand, eyes you up and down, and gives a low whistle.

"And, oh geez. I am glad I did. Hel-lo, nurse."

[not_easy_being_green]

Connor's halfway through responding - "No re-?" - before Harley's on the move again. Hello there, small tornado of a human being. Connor's known for being quick, but Harley has caught him completely off guard here. He tries to catch the basket before being intercepted by the handshake, wincing as the basket connects heavily with the floor.

He drops his hand as Harley releases it, and her statement catches up to him. "Oh."

Connor ignores the obvious come-on, kneeling down to pick up the basket and flashing Harley a slightly strained smile. "Pleased to meet you. Ms. Quinn." Hands full of wine-soaked basket, he gestures awkwardly to the lone couch in the middle of the room. "Why don't you - have a seat."

[newoutsiders]

"Thought you'd never ask!"

Barely a half-second after the words leave your mouth, Harley plops herself down in an armchair and puts her bare feet up on your coffee table. She tries to sink into it, but shifts uncomfortably.

"God, this chair is STIFF! How do ya sit in these things? Nevah mind. Look, Hawkeguy. You seem like an awright fella. I feel like I know you from somewhere. And ya look like..." she looks around the room, as if to make sure they're alone. "You can keep a secret."

[not_easy_being_green]

Connor deposits the entire basket unceremoniously in the sink for now. He's just fished the paper towels out from under the sink and is tearing into them when Harley makes her request. "Ah..." He walks across the room, standing in front of her. "Of course. What's the problem?"

[newoutsiders]

"Ya see..." she hesitates, her voice low. "The reason this place came so cheap is that the last guys had to leave in a hurry. It toins out, this whole block..."

She leaves a pregnant, dramatic pause.

"...IS HAUNTED."

[not_easy_being_green]

"... I see."

Connor kneels down to begin sopping up the spilled wine. It's not like he hasn't had his own interesting history with possible ghosts, but, well. "Haunted how?"

[newoutsiders]

"Well, ya see," she whispers. "Sometimes, on nights just like this one... stuff goes shifting around. Like, you'll wake up, and yeh sofa's like six inches to the left of where it was. How did it get there? No one knows. And sometimes, your showah doesn't get the pressure you want, and then, like, it'll go SUPER HARD. It's freaky."

Harley grabs an apple from a bowl of fruit on the coffee table, is about to bite into it, realizes it's wax, and rubs it off and puts it back.

"Oh yeah. And then there are all those people who just disappeah, and then randomly turn up dead. But, I dunno. That could be ANYTHING, right? This is Gotham."

[not_easy_being_green]

"Well, that sounds like - did you say people have been disappearing?" Wine cleaned up, Connor stands, giving Harley his full attention now. "How long has this been going on? What have the police said?"

[newoutsiders]

"Oh, couple months now. The cops poked around at first- not too much in my place, of course, we have an understanding- but they lost interest pretty quick. Nobody really cares about Amusement Mile, ya know? Not even Batsy. Part of why Mistah J used to come around here, other than the obvious old clowny stuff- which they got rid of last year- DESPITE MY LETTERS. That's the people's government for ya. But, yeah. The cops don't care. I almost think they're happier if all these poor schmoes are gettin' picked off. Lot of this neighborhood is ex-cons, the type what gets recruited for henchman work. They get offed, they ain't the city's problem no more."

Harley picks up the apple again, and tries to take a bite out of it anyway. Her teeth dent the surface, but are met with hard resistance.

"Not. Wax."

[not_easy_being_green]

"Of course." No wonder this place was so cheap - but he supposes it's not like he didn't know Amusement Mile wasn't the best of areas before. "Well, I'm not really sure what I can do, but I'll keep an ear out."

"That's plastic - give it here." Connor gently tugs away the not-wax not-apple. "You know what? There's some fruit in the fridge, if you'd like. And, uh." He glances behind him. "Cheese in the sink, I guess."

[newoutsiders]

Harley smiles sweetly.

"Aw, you're a peach, Hawkeguy. But I just ate. I was doing a bit."

She gets up out of the chair, stretches her arms out, and lets out an exaggerated yawn.

"Well, it's gettin' late. I just wanted to say hi, warn you about the ghosts. You know," she adds devilishly, "If you're scared, I could always stay over."

[not_easy_being_green]

Connor gives her a polite smile. "Thank you, but I'm sure I'll manage."

"Have a good evening, Ms. Quinn. I'm sure I'll see you around."

[newoutsiders]

She glares at Connor, face neutral.

"Oh. All righty. Maybe I'll come by another time, when I have my face on. Make sure you haven't been grabbed by the ghoulies."

She picks a tiny, toothpicked wedge of cheese out of the sink, and pops it in Connor's mouth.

"Later, Neighbor."

The weird clown lady absentmindedly slams the door behind her, leaving Connor alone in his apartment.

[not_easy_being_green]

Connor spits the cheese out into a hand, sighing loudly. He takes a little while to finish cleaning up, tossing the broken wine bottle into the recycling. The cheese basket takes a bit more deliberation - he can't eat it himself, and his inclination would be to leave it out for some tenant or another to eat, but considering that this was given to him by a woman he's pretty sure is a literal supervillain, he decides it's best not to risk it, and trashes that as well.

Then, it's time to start researching. Technologically disinclined as he may be, he can still use Google, and the plumber won't be here until tomorrow, anyway.

Time to get to the bottom of this.

[newoutsiders]

You open up your relatively new Q-Core laptop, and are proud of how quickly you find the "on" button this time. You wait for it to "boot up," find the Internet button on the desktop, and double click on the trackpad by dropping your index finger on it.

You see a weird paragraph of words that don't really make sense to you. Hunting and pecking, you type "google.com" into the top bar. You get the same weird paragraph.

You suddenly remember one of your tenants asking about something called "Wi Fi." It sounded internet related.

Reading the message more closely now, you see there's one 'network' available in the area: "harleyluvs". You deduce that if you can connect to this 'network', you can probably get to Google.

Is it wrong to open your neighbor's internet connection? Would that be stealing? Invading her privacy, even? You're not too familiar with the particulars of internet morality. Something tells you, though, that she probably wouldn't mind too much.

It's password locked.

[not_easy_being_green]

... crap. There is absolutely no way Connor is going over there to ask for the password. Maybe if... no. And he's definitely not going to admit defeat and call Mia...

Wait! His phone! That clunky Q-Core brick that he hated talking on! He'd seen Mia checking her internet on hers. It had to have internet, right?

[newoutsiders]

You search around your apartment for your awful plastic garbage block, until your sputtering memory strikes again. You flash back to mounting an incessantly buzzing qPhone onto the tip of an arrow, and firing it at some D-List bad guy named "Mr. Who." At least it made a pretty good boxing glove. Ollie would have understood.

[not_easy_being_green]

... Connor goes to knock on the door of the tenant who'd been asking about WiFi.

On his way to the door, he glances at his small pile of mail. Several of them are identical large envelopes from some place called Suncast. The word "internet" is emblazoned on several.

Connor has an idea.

[newoutsiders]

Seeing a solution to all your problems, you dial the 24 hour hotline number for Suncast to order up some internet for the building. You're a 21st century landlord, you think. Time to run a 21st century apartment.

You spend 10 minutes navigating their automated menus. You spend 20 minutes on hold. Finally, getting hold of a live representative, you ask for some internet. You spend 15 minutes being pitched a variety of packages you don't understand. You ask another few questions. You've been on hold again for 25 minutes. You now know all the lyrics to Stacey Q's "Two of Hearts."

[not_easy_being_green]

After another few rounds of questions and entirely too much staticky musak, Connor manages to get his apartment signed up for a $720/month plan. A man will be here to install it Monday, between 8:00 AM and 10:00 PM.

Connor sighs. Well, at least that's that taken care of. But it's not going to do him any good here. Looks like he'll be stopping by that tenant's place after all.

[newoutsiders]

You knock on the door muffling some thrashy electric guitar music from Apartment 302. A young dude with greasy black hair, bloodshot eyes, and an open button down shirt over a POISON IDEA tee answers your knock, cracking the door open. It looks kind of smokey in there, and there's a weird smell.

That's Lemmy, all right.

"Oh, hey Mr. Hawke," he says groggily. "You get the WiFi up yet?"

[not_easy_being_green]

"Yeah, I just got off the phone with Suncast. The guy should be here to install it Monday - we're just going to have to make do until then."

"Uh, actually, on that subject - I needed to get online and was wondering if you knew any place nearby with, uh, WiFi that I could use for now?"