"Drop it like it's hot!" The pigtailed vixen squealed with glee as her squad dropped homemade pipebombs off of the high walls of the fort. She cackled like a maniac and pointed with her bat to signal her minions behind her.

As the bombs went off and screams erupted from the courtyard, Harley Quinn strutted along the edge of the high fort wall. She blew a bubble with her gum, letting it pop with a playful smack of her lips as she supervised the carnage below.

She'd had her eye on this fort for awhile. Fort Independence, coined as The Castle by the Minutemen, was an icon in the Commonwealth. She knew her Gunners could cause all kinds of mayhem with this kind of base, and mayhem was the name of the game.

Harley swung her bat back and forth beside her as she walked, scuffed white tennis shoes light on the old stones. She had a spring in her step with every scream, every grunt, and a giggle bubbled up in her throat as the resistance died down. Her veritable army of Gunners had made quick work of the civilians, dragging the ones that surrendered out into the courtyard and securing them easily.

Before long, there was a lineup of men and women in the center of her new Castle, and she slowly descended the rubble on the one broken part of the wall. She hopped from rock to rock, enjoying each leap and bound on the way to the dirt below.

The dust settled from the explosions as she sashayed over to the lineup of people, and she cocked her head and her hip, dragging her eyes along each face.

"Where's he at?" she drawled, blowing another bubble for effect.

The sharp pop made the young woman kneeling in front of her flinch, and Harley bent at the waist, her heavily made up eyes wide with insane glee.

"You gonna tell me, lady?" she asked, running her tongue over her teeth as she extended her bat to boop the woman's nose. "Where's Mistah Garvey at?"

"Here," a deep voice rasped from behind her, and she spun on her heel to see a tall dark skinned man in a long jacket. His eyes were big and wide and sad as he raised his hands in the air. "Please let these people go. You got what you wanted."

"Oh, we are just gettin' started here," Harley said with a maniacal grin. "You and I need to be havin' a chat, Mistah Garvey."

She walked up to him until they were almost nose to nose, and then reached up to flick the brim of his hat. He frowned.

"Come on, show me my new throne room," Harley purred, and brushed past him towards the stone archway leading inside.

Preston Garvey swallowed and then took a deep breath, lowering his hands as he followed her.

He watched her body move as he kept up, her tiny waist wiggling with the long gait of her lean frame. She didn't have any weapons other than the bat, and regardless of the raw muscle rippling beneath the skin of her thighs, he was sure he could overpower her.

As if sensing this thought, she whipped around as they entered the hallway, slinging the length of wood over her shoulder.

"You ain't thinkin' of doing anything untoward, are ya Mistah Garvey?" She smirked, walking backwards as she spoke.

"I wouldn't dream of harming a lady," he replied gently, pursing his lips at the thought. He hadn't been imagining harming her, just incapacitating her long enough to... well, he hadn't thought that through. She didn't have a gun he could steal, and her army outside had him and his people at a disadvantage.

Harley barked a laugh. "Tsk tsk, I doubt that." She rolled her eyes, twirling a pigtail around her delicate looking fingers. "I am the way I am because of men that think they hot shit. Men that manipulate and abuse for they own personal gain. Do you know what that's like, Mistah Garvey?"

"Being manipulated?" he asked.

She reached out and snatched the hat from his head, leaping backwards into a perfect pirouette. "I'm sure it's happened to you many a time," she said, voice teasing. She flipped the hat onto her own head with a flourish, poking at the one side where the brim artfully stuck straight up. "This hat is ridiculous, Mistah Garvey, you make all your Minutemen wear these?"

"It's tradition," Preston replied, pursing his lips. "What is it that you want from me, Miss Quinn?"

"Miss Quinn!" Harley shrieked and trilled a laugh, putting a hand over her exposed midsection as she did so.

She darted into the mess hall, which was the largest room in the fort, housing many tables and benches. She gracefully hopped up onto one, dancing across the line of tables to the far end of the room.

"I want this castle." She spun around, arms outstretched, with an almost childlike wistfulness on her face. "I want a throne. I want servants. And I want a handsome King to be a trophy on my arm." She winked at him and giggled as his eyes widened.

"You can't be serious," he breathed, swallowing hard.

"Mistah Garvey, I ain't nothin' if not a serious gal," Harley sang, leaping off of the end table back down to the floor. "So? You gonna give in to me, or do I gotta kill you and all your people outside?"

Preston clenched his jaw as she set her bat down gently, fluttering her eyelashes at him. He couldn't deny she was a beautiful woman. Batshit insane, but wasn't everyone in this goddamn apocalypse? He was going to have to play along if he wanted to survive long enough to get the others to safety.

"What's in it for me?" he asked as she reached him, and stiffened as she slid her hands up his chest.

"Oh, Mistah Garvey, don't you get it?" Harley asked, standing on tiptoe to nip at his earlobe. "You don't get to worry about that anymore. Now why don't you show your Queen how good you are at worshippin' her?"