Chapter Text
"Wassup, strange voice in my head?"
... Who the fuck are you?
"Name's Harleen Frances Quinzel but the hood calls me Harley Quinn. 'Tis a pleasure!"
Oh fuck off. You know about me? What's even the point of the story if Harley Quinn already knows all of the superhero girls' identities?
"What you talking about?"
Ugh, goddamnit. Alright, so I'm not a voice, I'm a Narrator. You're a character in a story basically and I'm telling it. Name's Imogen.
"Ooh, ooh, am I getting a big role?!
Yes, Harleen.
"Oh, and how about my Babsy-Wabsy?"
You got no idea... Also, your Babsy-Wabsy?
"Uh, um, I meant-"
Listen, your crush on your bestie aside, I neither want, nor am really allowed to talk to you. Also, I'm afraid to ask but... Why aren't you freaking out?
"Well, I assume you noticed already but one might call me two ways bonkers from fridays."
That's not even the correct saying.
"I'm not exactly sure what I'd diagnose myself with but hearing voices ain't the weirdest thing."
Whatever, it seems that since my narration is taking place in Metropolis, you can't hear me talking about what's going on down there so I'll just have to think of a solution for you once you move over there...
"What you mumbling 'bout, Immy?"
Don't worry 'bout it. If you prefer thinking of me as a voice in your head, good, it'll mean you dismiss anything I tell you. For instance, if I were to tell you that Barbara Gordon was Batgirl, you'd laugh in my face.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!"
God, you people are predictable. Well, more convenient for me, I guess.
"I likes ya, Imogen! You're funny."
And I despise you. Please, for the love of all Authors, do not consistently try to make conversation with me or ask me questions.
"I ain't the best at following directions, Immy."
... Fuck my life.