What Erin Hannon lacked in street smarts and killer instinct, she made up for with cute naivety. Add in the red hair and Harley Quinn hadn’t been able to resist letting her tag along. She’d not been in the Necropolis long, but it hadn’t taken much for her to know that the place was about as dangerous as they came. Having a gullible meat-shield at her side seemed like a smart play, especially one that looked as deliciously fuckable as Erin.

Harley hadn’t gotten into the redhead’s pants yet, but she figured it was only a matter of time. With as many near death experiences as the Necropolis offered on a minute-to-minute basis, it would only take finding the right quiet moment to make her move. A little of the old, ‘Oh, Red, you look tense… Why don’t I give you a massage?’ and then the clothes would come off and the hands would go exploring. Harley suspected Erin might mutter out something to the effect of not being a lesbian, but she doubted the young woman would really put up any kind of resistance.

The apartment complex looked dead. Not the typical Necropolis brand of dead, but properly abandoned. It looked like the perfect place to shack up and play a fun game of doctor. Still, Harley’s desire to get laid and check out what Erin was hiding under her hood came in a close second to her desire to go on breathing. The apartment units might have supplied some coziness and the height advantage would provide them a clear view of anything coming to kill them, but if they were caught off-guard, they’d have no options beyond going further up. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop wasn’t really within Harley’s skill set. So instead of heading up, Harley led her companion down into the complex’s basement.

***

Bathory worked her fingers carefully around Nancy Callahan’s weakly beating heart. The blonde stripper was in bad shape. She’d kidnapped the woman from the Bunker with the intent of using her as the first of her new test subjects. But Nancy’s good looks had driven Bathory into a rage. She’d carved off the woman’s face, stapling it to the head of a mannequin she’d found. Nancy’s chest had endured a skinning and a relocation to the mannequin as well, before Bathory had cracked open her ribs and pulled them aside to reveal the stripper’s heart.

Lifting Nancy’s heart from her chest with one hand, Bathory worked the bloody knife she’d been using across her arteries. The spurting organ came free as Nancy fell into dying shudders on the table that had previously been used to fold laundry. Bathory hefted the heart up over her head, tilting her face back. She squeezed, forcing the hot blood to gush down over her face and down her chest. Thick lines of crimson drizzled into her deep cleavage. Bathory moaned deeply, tugging at the front of her top to let her breasts spill free. She rubbed the blood across her soft flesh. It wasn’t the quality of blood bath she’d grown accustomed to in the Bunker, but it was better than nothing.

“Hate to interrupt.”

The voice made Bathory jump more than she cared to admit, very nearly letting Nancy’s slippery heart fall from her fingers. She turned towards the intruders who’d wandered into her makeshift lab. Another blonde – her hair pulled into pigtails – who might’ve been a contender for Bathory in the good looks department if she’d not decided to dress up as some kind of Sex Jester. She looked far more at ease with the flesh stapled to the mannequin and the bloody carcass lying on the table than her redheaded friend did. The second woman’s red hair reminded Bathory of Rayne, which only further stirred her rage. Granted, this redhead looked a good deal more like an awkward secretary than she did a dhampir assassin.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Harley remarked, reaching over to give one of Nancy’s dead nipples a tweak. “It’s got a very slaughterhouse vibe.”

“Harley, what the fudge are you doing?” Erin hissed, wide eyes darting from the gore to the woman responsible for it. “We need to get out of here.” She raised her voice as she addressed Bathory. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. We’ll be leaving now.”

Harley’s desire to see Erin in her birthday suit wasn’t gone, but it had ticked down several notches as soon as they’d entered the basement. The psychotic bloodshed had been an unexpected discovery, but not an unpleasant one. She ignored her companion’s distress, keeping her focus on Bathory. She gave the blood-soaked woman a curious look, pointing a finger in her direction. “You some kinda doctor, honey?” She flashed her prettiest smile. “Y’know, I’m something of a doctor myself.”

Bathory gave Harley a scathing glare, eyes drifting up and down her unorthodox outfit. “What sort of cunt doctor dresses like that?”

“Language!” Erin snapped.

“Shut up,” Bathory and Harley responded in unison.

“Anyway,” Harley continued, motioning to Bathory’s exposed breasts. “I could ask you the same thing.” Her bottom lip curled into a mock pout. “And I ain’t an OBGYN, lady. I’m a brain doctor.” She flashed another proud grin. “A brainy brain doctor.”

Bathory’s ire was tempered with curiosity, and the possibility of the strangely dressed woman being more useful than she’d original suspected. “Neurologist?” she asked.

Harley shook her head. “Nah, the other kind. I put the criminal in criminal psychologist.”

Bathory was still intrigued, but unconvinced. “Prove it.”

“Oh, goodie,” Harley said, clapping her hands together. “A chance to show off.” She looked Bathory over, then Nancy’s corpse, then the flaps of skin attached to the mannequin. “She was pretty. Young. Prettier and younger than you. You took off her face first, that was the jealousy. Then you decided to have a bit of fun. Carve off her tits and tack them to the mannequin, too. Not that there wasn’t still jealousy. They were perkier than yours, after all. Bigger, too. This macabre display would make a good warning sign, but that’s not why you did it. You did it cuz you wanted to make her ugly.”

Taking Bathory’s silence – and her displeased look – to be a confirmation of her diagnosis so far, Harley continued. “Then you went for the heart. You could’ve done it just to drag her death out, make it hurt more, But that wasn’t the only reason. You ripped that blood-filled sucker out and squeezed it all over yourself like you were in a beer commercial and it was a sudsy sponge.” She laughed. “You’re a special kinda crazy, ain’t ya, doll? Bathing in the blood of pretty girls cuz you think it’ll keep you looking spry and sexy. I bet you’ve given yourself some kinda goofy name, too. Like the Countess, or Bathory, or something.”

Bathory’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “My name is Bathory.”

“Called it!” Harley cheered.

“It’s not some ridiculous nickname,” she growled. “I am Dr. Bathory Mengele. I am a direct descendant of the actual Erzsebet Bathory.”

“Oh, fun! Delusions of grandeur, too! I am so glad we met!”

“You won’t be very soon,” Bathory hissed, snatching up her knife and starting her way around the table towards Harley.

“No,” Harley barked, pulling a hand grenade free and lifting it up to her face. She pinched her teeth closed around the grenade’s pin, ready to tug it free. “Y’see,” she said, around the pin. “I’m a special kinda crazy, too. So why don’t you keep your distance? We’re not finished chatting yet.” Erin attempted to subtly back away towards the stairs. Harley reached out and snagged her by the arm. “Now’s not the time to run, Red. We got this crazy bitch right where we want her.”

Bathory paused. She was strong. Stronger than Harley knew. But even she wasn’t sure she could survive a grenade at close proximity. “What do you propose?” she asked. “Annoying me into the point of killing myself?”

Harley chuckled around the pin. She carefully removed it from her mouth to better talk, making sure to let Bathory see her thumb slipping into the ring. “Y’know, I actually did that once. It was this pizza delivery guy. Kept getting my orders wrong. Tied him up and talked to him for thirty-six straight hours. He was begging me for the gun he put in his mouth by the end of it. Best. Birthday. Ever.” Neither Bathory or Erin seemed as amused by the story as she was. She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m more interested in what your deal is. Are you just running around town pretending your Dracula’s slutty cousin or are you more interesting than that?”

Bathory’s jaw firmed as Harley continued to mock her. She tucked her blood-stained breasts back away, suddenly feeling the need to make herself look presentable. Jokes aside, Harley had proven her skills. If she could keep her desire to slaughter the annoying woman at bay for at least a little while, there might be something of value in them working together. “I was recently evicted from my previous lab. I was conducting experiments on the local abominations. My former benefactors believed it was to find a cure for the undead infection, but I was far more interested in finding a means of controlling them.”

“Wanna be Queen of the Zombies, huh?” Harley remarked with a nod. It wasn’t a terrible idea. “Any success?”

The smugness in Bathory’s face faded slightly. “Not nearly enough. Due to certain… handicaps… I could not be as bold in my experiments as I would have liked. And due to circumstances beyond my control, I’ve lost my test subjects and all hard records of my research. Still, I was able to discern certain facts regarding the epidemic ravaging this city. It’s not a virus. Or at least, it’s like no virus I’ve seen before. Whatever it is, is capable of reanimating dead tissue. The infection can be transmitted via bite or particularly bad scratches. There’s a possibility that it might be capable of being sexually transmitted, but I’ve not been able to sufficiently explore that avenue. They’re driven by base instincts. Hunger. Mating. But they’re not entirely brainless. Something is directing them, whether it’s the virus itself or something greater. Either way, it shows clear signs of some form of intelligence, some degree of being controlled.”

“So you think that if you interrupt whatever it is controlling them, they’ll be putty for you to mold?” Harley finished for her.

“Precisely,” Bathory confirmed. “But I’ve only been able to experiment with zombies that have either already been killed, or have had the infection so deeply ingrained in them that whatever controlling force there is can’t be dislodged.”

Harley’s eyes lit up. “What you need is a living test subject.” Her fingers tightened around Erin’s arm. “C’mon, Red, time to do some science!”

“Quit joking around, Harley!” Erin yelled back, tugging to get free. “Let’s just leave the crazy lady to be crazy.”

Harley ignored Erin’s protests. She held the grenade up again. “Catch,” she called to Bathory, tossing it over. Bathory jumped, hands coming up to catch the grenade before it could hit the ground. Harley chuckled at the woman’s startled expression. “Relax,” she assured. “It’s only a model.” Her brow furrowed. “At least, I think it is. Y’know what, let’s be safe and say it’s not.” She tugged Erin over to the table where Nancy’s body lay. With her free hand, she loosened the straps holding the body down. She lifted a leg and planted it against the dead blonde’s hip, shoving the carcass off.

Erin twisted and pulled against Harley’s grip. “I don’t wanna be your damn test subject! Just let me go!”

“We gotta damn outta her,” Harley laughed, giving Erin a grin as she forced the redhead onto the table. “There’s the spunk I knew you had in you.”

“Fuck you,” Erin shot back, dropping her distaste for cursing in the face of certain tortured death.

Harley rolled her eyes. “Now she offers,” she grumbled as she helped Bathory hold Erin’s arms and legs down to secure her to the table. “It’s not too late, honey. I’m a whizz at multitasking.” She gave Erin a good example of her skills, feeling her up as she tied her down to the table.

Down on the floor, Nancy’s dead eyes sparked with a flash of unlife. Her lipless teeth parted to emit a growl as her hands pressed against the floor, starting to lift herself up. Bathory took notice and promptly rammed the tipped point of her heel into the undead stripper’s skull. Nancy’s body gave off a spastic jerk before slumping back to the floor, properly dead. The day had certainly taken a turn, but despite the annoying nature Harley possessed, Bathory saw the potential value she possessed. How long she’d keep the woman around depended solely on how well their little experiment went.

Once Erin was securely trussed up and left squirming on the table, Harley stepped back and admired her catch. “Looking good, Red,” she remarked. “Nothing sexier than a cutie like you in bondage.” She broke her eyes away from Erin and looked to Bathory. “Oh, we ain’t been officially introduced yet. Dr. Harleen Quinzel. But my friends call me Harley Quinn.” She extended her hand.

Bathory lifted an eyebrow at the woman, but accepted the handshake. “And you derided my name?”

Harley ignored the comment. “So whatever it is making these dead people wake up horny, it has to be in their brains. Destroy their brain and they’re just so much stinking flesh. But, maybe if we damage her pretty brain just enough before she dies, whatever it is that controls them won’t be able to make a proper connection.”

“A lobotomy?” Bathory suggested.

Harley considered it. “Haven’t seen too many of those, but back at Arkham – you’d love Arkham – they were fond of pumping some juice into the patients’ heads. Helped to keep em complacent. And by complacent, I mean drooling idiots.” She looked around the basement. “What do you have for operating tools in this dump, anyway?”

***

Erin really found a talent for cursing when Harley started to cut and shave away her hair. Nancy’s panties did a good job of muffling her crude remarks. “Guess I can’t call you Red anymore,” Harley remarked as Erin’s hair came away, leaving behind only stubble. The buzz of the clippers drowned out whatever muffled response Erin gave. When her hair was gone, Harley popped the cap off of a Sharpie and went about the task of marking a dotted line across the woman’s forehead and around the circumference of her skull. “Alright, Not-So-Red,” Harley said with a smirk as she hefted the circular saw into view. “This is gonna sting a little.”

Bathory helped hold Erin’s head steady. Harley made a mental note of how physically strong the woman was, despite appearances, but filed it away for later. The apartment complex hadn’t exactly been stocked with appropriate tools for brain surgery. She needed to maintain a steady hand and a firm focus as she carefully guided the circular saw’s blade into Erin’s forehead. Blood sprayed across her face, but she was no stranger to being doused in the fluid. She carefully worked her way around Erin’s head. It wasn’t the straightest line, but it got the job done without killing the young woman. Letting her finger come off the saw’s trigger, Harley set the tool aside and carefully popped the top of Erin’s skull cap off.

Setting the cap aside, Harley leaned in and took a deep whiff of Erin’s exposed brain. “Ah, I just love the smell of cerebral fluid in the whatever the hell time of day it is right now.” She moved forward, looking down into Erin’s terrified eyes. “Didn’t I promise you some sexy fun times?” she asked, tapping the young woman on the nose. “I think it’s time I made good on that.” She moved around the table, hands dropping back onto Erin’s chest. She felt the woman’s breasts through her top before gripping the neck of her shirt and tearing it away. Unclipping the bra beneath, Harley let the cups slide away from the fleshy mounds, giggling as she drank in the sight of Erin’s naked tits. They were pale, perky, tipped with rosy nipples with a splatter of freckles across them.

“We do not have time for these games,” Bathory growled as Harley leaned in to start sucking at one of Erin’s nipples.

Harley popped her lips free and gave the blonde an annoyed glare. “What? You’re a doctor, right? You know how a brain works.” She waved a hand nonchalantly towards Erin’s head. “Fry her frontal lobe. I’m busy.” She moved further down Erin’s body, unfastening her pants and tugging them far enough down her thighs to gain access to what lay beneath her light purple panties. She peeled the underwear to the side, revealing a tuft of fiery pubic hair and the crevasse of Erin’s cunt. “There’s that cherry pie I’ve been craving,” she said with a playful purr before diving face first into Erin’s snatch.

Bathory glowered at Harley, but it didn't seem to do much to deter the woman from lapping her tongue across Erin's slit. She moved around behind Erin's head, picking up the set of knitting needles they'd found. The fear in Erin's eyes was joined by the disgust of the unwanted pleasure Harley was inflicting on her. By the time Bathory finished with her, she'd feel no fear or disgust. She spun one of the needles between her fingers, tilting her head and looking closely at the wrinkled mass of Erin's mind. She selected her point of entry carefully, touching the tip of the needle against the gently pulsing brain tissue and slowly sliding it into place. Erin shuddered on the table, eyes bulging. Either it was from the needle being inserted or the orgasm Harley had forced her into.

The next three needles went in just as smoothly, each of them positioned at precise points in Erin's brain. Harley stared up the length of Erin's body as she wagged her tongue across the woman's clitoris, staring past her heaving breasts to her flushed face. She worked a hand down the front of her pants, rubbing at her cunt. Nothing turned her on quite like watching someone lose their mind. Bathory clipped connectors to the ends of the needles shoved into Erin's brain. From there, it was only a matter of completing the connection to the car battery they'd looted.

The first blast of electricity was enough to stun Erin's brain. Her body snapped stiff across the table. The juice shot through her and into Harley. Her lips tingled from the shock, but she was able to pull back. She stumbled and giggled, drawing her sticky fingers free from her pants. She gave them a suck. “Always a rush,” she muttered.

Erin slumped loosely as Bathory ended the first dose of electricity. She panted and whined, drool leaking from the edges of her lips. Her eyes darted about, confused and pained. The shock had left her disoriented, but still there. Bathory gave her another, longer one. Her teeth clenched, spraying saliva through them as her body vibrated against the table. Harley stared openly at Erin's rippling tit flesh while she gave her own a squeeze. She leaned forward, curiously examining the woman as Bathory cut the connection a second time.

“Hey there, honey,” she called to Erin. “Do you know your name?”

Erin's face constricted, straining to answer the question. When she couldn't, she burst into tears. Bathory interrupted them with a third jolt of electricity. The woman performed one more erotic dance of electrocution for the pair. By the time it came to an end, Erin had no more words, or tears. She stared vacantly up at her tormentors, drooling freely and blinking slowly. Harley leaned in closer and snapped her fingers in front of Erin's face. She offered no discernible reaction.

“Well, it's official,” Harley announced, leaning back and crossing her arms. “We have a vegetable.”

Bathory nodded. “Time to see if this little experiment of yours is going to work.” She yanked the cellophane sheet across Erin's face, holding it down firmly enough to mash her lips and nose against its clear surface. At first, Erin did not respond to the abrupt asphyxiation. Gradually, her body began to shift with more unease as her body's base instincts slowly took over. She worked herself up to a pretty lively bit of struggling, a performance erotic enough to lure Harley back in. The pigtailed blonde worked a couple fingers into Erin's clenching pussy, pumping steadily. She kept up the finger-fucking right through Erin's demise, unbothered by the sudden gush of piss that escaped her.

Bathory kept the cellophane in place for a few minutes longer before peeling it away from Erin's sweaty, discolored face. She slid the knitting needles free of the woman's partially ruined brain and worked the bloody skull cap into place. She was in the midst of stapling the top of her skull back down when whatever unholy corruption permeating the Necropolis took hold of her. Her eyes fluttered and she began to write on the table, moaning with a dullness that Bathory had not heard from previous zombies.

The fact that she hadn't come back immediately trying to chomp into her was also a good sign.

The next step of the experiment was the riskiest. Bathory sliced through the straps holding Erin down. The freshly zombified woman sat up, stretching her freed limbs. The reanimated muscles twitched as the new life within her got used to working her like a puppet. Then she turned towards Bathory, let out a low growl, and lunged towards her. Bathory jerked her knife up, ready to shove it through Erin's eye and finish destroying her brain.

“Red!” Harley snapped.

Erin froze, teeth bared, knife point less than an inch from her eye. Bathory resisted the urge to shove the knife the rest of the way. Erin's head twitched at the end of her twisting neck as she turned to look at Harley. Her aggression faded.

Harley grinned. “Good girl,” she said. “Now come over here and give mama a kiss.” She leaned forward, presenting her cheek to the zombie. Erin shuffled her way over, grunting and growling. Her face shifted from vacant to snarling as she neared Harley, but when she went for the woman's cheek, she didn't tear away a chunk of flesh. She planted her lips gently against Harley's skin before moving away.

“You're insane,” Bathory muttered.

Erin turned and snapped her teeth angrily at her.

“Bad pet zombie!” Harley yelled, reaching forward to flick Erin across the nose. “You do not eat mama's new partner!”

Erin let out a whimper of disappointment, but she settled down.

“Incredible,” Bathory said, continuing to look Erin over. “It appears our experiment has been a success.” Her wonderment hardened into murderous desire. She stared into Erin's dead eyes and aimed a finger at Harley. “Kill her.”

Several awkward moments of stillness later, Harley burst into laughter. “I admire the lack of loyalty. Looks like Red's not a fan of taking orders from you, though.” She turned her attention to her undead minion. “Alright, Dead Girl. Go watch the stairs. Mama's gotta discuss the details of her arrangement with Auntie Bathory.” Erin shuffled her way to the stairwell. Harley crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, leveling a glare at Bathory. “So,” she said. “Are we gonna try to kill each other all night, or can we get down to the post-mad science sex?”