Rayne was hungry. She’d not had a decent meal since being plopped into the Necropolis. The zombies she’d encountered smelled too foul to risk drinking from. The more grotesque monsters smelled even worse. Her need for blood wasn’t so strong as to risk catching whatever corruption had created the monstrosities. But it was harder to control her hunger with a big, beefy snack pack trotting along beside her. They made a mismatched pair. Rayne with her pale skin and lithe figure, clothing that might be better suited for a bordello more than a combat situation. Zarya with her thick, muscular physique and rigid good looks, contrasted by her vibrant pink hair.

And so full of hot, healthy blood.

Rayne shook the thought away. If the hunger got bad enough and they found a place of reasonable safety, she’d think about broaching the subject of asking Zarya for a sip or three of her precious blood. For now, she could endure. And the last thing she wanted was for Zarya to be half a pint down when she needed to act. Wandering the streets of the Necropolis, that moment could come without much warning. Even if she couldn’t feed off the monsters, she could at least use her hunger to give her a combative edge.

Rayne had been on her own in the Necropolis for a little more than a day before she met Zarya. And while they were both more than capable of taking care of themselves, they’d each seen enough of the strange, terrible world they now inhabited to find an appreciation for partnership. They’d not found anyone else yet. No one alive, anyway. They’d seen a couple corpses that certainly looked out of place, evidence that they’d not been the only ones teleported into the city. But none of them had been capable of surviving long enough to make introductions.

Even a couple of Class-A Badasses needed rest, though. Even Rayne’s muscles were beginning to ache from all the walking with occasional bouts of sudden violence. The street they were one seemed largely deserted, no sign of any threats. The pair made their way towards what looked like an apartment complex. It seemed like an appropriate location to bunker up and recharge. Maybe Rayne could even persuade Zarya into sharing some blood. The pink-haired muscle girl hadn’t asked her about the fangs yet, but she imagined the questions were rolling around in her head.

I guess I should just be thankful she didn’t fry me on sight, Rayne thought, glancing over at the heavy Particle Cannon the woman carried. She doubted even her dhampiric nature could withstand the sort of energy the thing produced.

They made it to the apartment building’s entrance without incident, slipping into the shadowy interior. Rayne’s eyes adjusted to the gloom quickly. It helped that the sky wasn’t much brighter outside. The shuffling figure of a single zombie came into view. Not a real threat, but certainly in need of handling. Rayne hesitated as more of the creature’s details soaked into her mind. It was different from the other undead she’d encountered so far. The first, most noticeable difference, was that it hadn’t immediately turned to attack her and Zarya. It – it was a she, very obvious due to the lack of clothing – stood in front of what looked like a maintenance door, as if guarding the passage. Her head had been shaved and a raw line of cut skin circle the crown of her skull, thick staples keeping the skullcap in place. Slowly, the zombies head swiveled around to fix on the two interlopers, offering a growl of warning but not moving to engage them.

Rayne glanced over – and up – to Zarya. “This is weird. Something’s not right.”

Zarya responded with a shrug, seemingly less bothered by the weird situation than Rayne was. “First, we kill. Then we explore.”

Rayne nodded her agreement. Something about the zombie’s butchery seemed familiar in an unsettling way. She hoped it was only nerves brought on by her hunger.

Zarya took point, stomping up to the bald zombie without fear. The closer she got, the more agitated the zombie became, snarling and glaring at the muscular woman. With less than a foot between them, the zombie lunged, teeth gnashing for Zarya’s face. Zarya drew her Particle Cannon up and smashed the butt of the weapon into the creature’s head. The force of the strike dislodged the staples keeping the top of her skull in place. The bone shifted back suddenly, shearing the bulk of the dead woman’s putrid brain out of her head. The zombie’s eyes bulged, black blood snorting from her flared nostrils as she stumbled back wildly, smacking against the front of the door she’d been guarding and sliding down to the floor, properly dead.

“Let us see what this smelly kitten was protecting,” Zarya remarked, kicking the limp carcass aside and reaching for the door.

***

It had been so long since Bathory had felt the intimate touch of another human being. The consensual touch, anyway. It certainly had its benefits and Harley certainly knew her way around the female anatomy. She quivered her way through her final orgasm as Harley’s sticky fingers slid free from her cunt, both thankful and bitter that the onslaught of ecstasy had reached an end point. Partnership had its benefits. Her desire to keep Harley around strengthened, even if the insane woman’s habit of spouting out a litany of bad jokes tested her patience.

The pleasant afterglow faded swiftly as the door to the basement opened. Bathory and Harley turned to face the interruption. Two figures in the doorway, staring in slack-jawed shock into the room. The bulky one with the pink hair couldn’t help but stand out, but it was the other one that Bathory fixed on. A surge of white hot rage tinged with only a spark of fear rose up within the Nazi butcheress. She saw her feelings mirrored on her bitter enemy’s face.

“Bathory,” Rayne growled, pulling her arm blades up into an attack pose.

“Whore,” Bathory hissed back, springing into action with only the thought of killing Rayne filling her mind. Her long legs kicked out, knocking Harley off of her.

Harley let out a surprised yell as she lost her balance, rolling off of Bathory’s body and falling off the table they’d been using. She crashed to the floor and let out a disgruntled groan. “Owww, my sweet sexy ass!”

Bathory ignored her, snatching up a straight razor and the circular saw they’d used to carve open Erin’s head. Hardly the most appropriate weapons, but they were what was nearest. She met the dhampir midway into the room, slashing the razor at her face while ducking to avoid the slash of one of the woman’s arm-blades. Bathory had fought Rayne enough times to know that her adversary was not at full strength. Partially disrobed and still recovering from the fun she’d been having with Harley, Bathory wasn’t at her peak, either. She searched for openings in Rayne’s defenses, hoping to outlast her, tire her out enough to deliver a fatal strike. Her time in the Necropolis had only just begun to bear fruit, and this seemed as good a place as any to bring their ongoing feud to a final end. She only hoped that the end would not also be her own.

Harley stood, rubbing at her bruised posterior. She noticed Zarya still in the doorway, big mean gun aimed steadily at her face, but didn’t give the woman much concern. The real show was taking place between Bathory and Rayne. The two circled and lashed out at each other like furious serpents. “Man, I could really go for some popcorn right about now,” she commented to the pink-haired woman. “How about you?”

Zarya offered Harley no response, keeping her Particle Cannon aimed at the woman. Rayne and Bathory were too close to lend any assistance to that fight, but she could at least make sure the blonde’s accomplice didn’t interfere. She had no idea who either of pair were, but Rayne certainly knew who the Bathory woman was. And she was not a fan. She’d witnessed Rayne slaughter numerous creatures since teaming up with her. The pale-skinned woman always had a degree of ferocity to her attacks, but this was different. Personal. She made a mental note to ask about the history once the fight was over.

With a gun trained on her and no real desire to get involved unless something went dreadfully wrong, Harley was more than happy to enjoy the view and offer her own brand of color commentary. “Get her, Bathy-baby!” she cheered. “Kick her in the cunt!” She fell into a spirited, but non-threatening cheerleader prance. “Bathy, Bathy, she’s our girl! If she can’t slay em, Harley sure will!”

Zarya considered shooting Harley. Just to earn some silence.

“Don’t…” Bathory growled, twisting to avoid having her arm cleaved away. “Call…” She ducked under Rayne’s next slash, responding with a slash of her own that only managed to leave a gash across the lower portion of the dhampir’s leather vest. “Me…” She jumped back, flexing her abdomen inwards to keep from becoming skewered on one of Rayne’s arm-blades. “Bathy!” she finished, spinning inwards and low, extending the circular saw and squeezing the trigger. The blade spun to life, carving a thick gouge across the top of Rayne’s right thigh. It was far from a decisive blow, but it forced the dhampir to back off a limping step or two.

The sting of the gash across her thigh was a cruel reminder of just how proficient Bathory was at cutting up flesh. The augmented zombie proved that the woman was back to her old, horrid practices. She would come into this nightmare of a world and find a way to bend it to her sick desires, she thought, annoyance growing as the hunger in her gut burned stronger. The sluggish state of her healing was evidence of just how malnourished she’d become. Such a trivial wound typically only required mere moments to stitch itself closed. Now, the wound continued to hang open, leaking sluggish lines of blood down her leg. Two tasty meals waiting for me in this room, she thought. Just have to live long enough to dine. Even in her hungry state, the thought of swallowing even a sip of Bathory’s wicked blood left her nauseous, but she could look past her personal feelings long enough to suck up the nourishment.

Harley rolled her eyes. “Y’know, Red never complained about the pet name I gave her,” she called back. Her brow furrowed. “Hey, where is Red? I gave her specific instructions not to let anyone interrupt Mommy while she was getting her fuck on.” With Rayne and Bathory focused on their duel, she turned her attention to Zarya. “What’d you do with my zombie girl-toy, Muscle Mama?”

“Zombie with the staples in her head?” Zarya asked.

Harley nodded. “That’s my Red.”

“Wasted her.”

Harley’s eyes widened with overdramatic shock. “What’d she ever do to you, ya big dummy?! Ain’t anyone ever told you to pick on someone your own size? She…” Harley sniffled, working up a tear for the lost zombie girl. “She was just getting comfortable in her own rotting skin. I’ll never get to show her all the things I wanted to show her. I’ll never get to treat her the way a lobotomized living dead girl deserves to be treated.” Her jaw firmed, a spark of insane anger flashing in her eyes. “That’s it!” She snatched the grenade from her side, flicking the pin away. “You’re both terrible house guests!” Her over-the-top anger faded for a brief moment. “Bathy-baby, hold your breath.” She chucked the grenade between Zarya and Rayne, ducking behind the makeshift operating table just in time to avoid the devastating energy blast from the muscle girl’s cannon.

Despite her personal grievances with her psychotic partner regarding pet names, Bathory trusted Harley. She sucked in a quick breath and sealed her lips, throwing herself backwards from Rayne. Her head turned to the side, an arm coming up to shield her eyes just as the grenade blew. Instead of an explosion of concussive force, a thick cloud of pale green smoke erupted into the room, momentarily concealing Zarya and Rayne from view. The thick smoke billowed wildly, coalescing against the ceiling before dispersing. Lying on the floor, breath still held in her lungs, Bathory’s eyes widened with surprise as she caught sight of her nemesis and her partner again. The pair stumbled, aimlessly and disoriented. Zarya’s cannon clattered heavily to the floor as she coughed, clutching a hand against her throat. Rayne’s eyes rolled about, hands fumbling as she clung to the wall, struggling to remain on her feet.

Harley’s head popped up from behind the blackened table, one pigtail noticeably shorter, ending in a patch of singed hair. A quick glance was all she needed to give Bathory a thumbs up. “It’s alright,” she called. “The gas has thinned out enough now. Let’s get these losers!” She leapt over the table and charged towards Zarya, snatching a thick rubber-headed mallet along the way. “This is for Red, ya muscle-brained bimbo!” she cheered, slamming the mallet across the side of Zarya’s temple and felling the broad woman with ease.

Rayne struggled to fight through the effects of whatever the gas was. Her eyes burned terribly, blurring her vision, and her muscles felt like they’d been filled with lead. She caught sight of Bathory rushing towards her, tried to pull her arm-blades up to defend herself, but the movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. There was a sudden jolt of pain as something connected with her head, knocking her to the side. Then a thick blackness swam up to consume her.

***

“So this is how it ends,” Bathory grinned, running her hands along Rayne’s smooth thighs. The dhampir’s bare flesh felt cool against her fingers. Not as chilled as a cadaver, but close. “Just as I always knew it would.” Rayne’s clothing was neatly folded and resting on the seat of a nearby chair, her arm-blades criss-crossed on top of the pile. A thick rope circled her ankles, stretching to a mounting post in the ceiling and back down to a securing post on the wall, leaving the unconscious woman suspended upside down. Utterly stripped and utterly helpless. Like a prime slab of meat reader for butchering. And as sweet as it would feel to carve pieces away from Rayne’s body until there was nothing left to identify, Harley’s surprisingly level head had persuaded Bathory against that course of action.

“Wouldn’t revenge be so much more satisfying if you turned her into your willing slave?” she’d remarked.

The thought of Rayne – even a zombified version of her – willingly licking her boots was a very nice visual, indeed. But she was still determined to have a bit of fun with the dhampir before the deed was done. It wasn’t every day that she’d get to have her most hated adversary strung up like a lamb to the slaughter. Her finger traced across the gouge she’d made with the circular saw. It was still healing, a line of angry red scar tissue, but the bleeding had stopped. Her hand moved inwards, to Rayne’s crotch, working between her lithe thighs to rub against the cleft of her cunt. She dipped the tip of her middle finger into the hole. Not because she wished to fuck Rayne, but because she knew the dhampir would hate knowing her fingers had explored such an intimate region of her body. She pumped steadily for a little bit, chuckling as she felt the lips of Rayne’s pussy grow damp in response. Her thumb stroked across the rising bud of the dhampir’s clitoris, drawing a weak groan from her lips as Rayne stirred closer to consciousness.

Bathory popped her finger free of Rayne’s snatch and wiped the juices across the dangling woman’s lips. Something pleasant for the whore to wake up to, she thought as she quickly snatched up the flat-nosed screwdriver. Now that they knew frontal lobe destruction was the key to obedience, there was no need for the invasive methods they’d used on Erin. She guided the tip of the screwdriver against the bridge of Rayne’s nose, angling it towards the corner of her left eye. Her free hand slipped around to attain a firm grip on the back of her head. Then she waited for her victim to come around. Lobotomizing her while she slept would be no fun. She wanted Rayne to know – if only for half a second – what was going to happen to her. She owed the bitch that much at least.

Rayne awoke slowly, still sluggish from the effects of Harley’s gas grenade. The tingle of arousal she felt between her thighs sent a jolt of revulsion through her. From the pressure in her head, she could tell she hung upside down. Nude. Bathory’s perverse nature had gotten the better of her. She’d wasted time playing and no doubt waiting to gloat. Rayne vowed to make her regret that. She forced her eyes open, brow furrowing with confusion as she tried to focus on the length of metal held so close to one of them. “W-wha..?”

Bathory smirked. “Hello again, Rayne,” she growled, tightening her grip on the screwdriver and driving it forward with a hard, steady plunge. She watched Rayne’s eye bulge, shoved to the side by the intrusion of the tool, felt the crack of her occipital bone before she slid easily into the soft tissue of her brain. “Goodbye, Rayne,” she concluded, giving the handle of the screwdriver a precise twirl, sloshing up the dhampir’s frontal lobe and eradicating her higher consciousness. With enough time and good supply of fresh blood, Rayne may have been capable of recovering from the damage, but Bathory had no intention of allowing her either. She withdrew the blood-stained screwdriver from the dangling dhampir’s bleeding eye and set it aside.

She took up the straight razor, ready to kill Rayne and claim her as a willing servant, but the sight of her vacant face was too stunning to ruin so quickly. Bathory laughed, poking at one of the dhampir’s soft breasts. “Not so wicked now, are you?” she mocked, laughing harder as a line of drool crept from Rayne’s sputtering lips. Her eyes lit up with fiery excitement. “I can’t believe this is truly happening. I’ve dreamt of it for so long.” She brought the razor up, angling it against Rayne’s throat. Her breath quickened as she dug the sharp blade into the dhampir’s pale skin. A small, quick stroke opened Rayne’s carotid artery. A crimson stream erupted from the wound. Bathory stepped closer to the dangling body, lips parted to slurp down several mouthfuls of the succulent liquid. It splashed over her face and drained over her chin, drizzling across her breasts and through her cleavage. Bathory moaned deeply, rubbing Rayne’s blood against her skin. It was the ultimate blood shower. Her hands never delved down to her aching crotch, but she didn’t need to touch herself to writhe and gasp through a powerful climax as Rayne’s blood and life drained out of her.

As the flow of blood slowed, Bathory leaned in, planting her lips against it. She sucked hard, wanting every last drop of the stuff. Her tongue flicked across the slice of opened skin with even more attentive enthusiasm than she’d shown Harley’s cunt. Her lips smacked against Rayne’s throat, slurping again and again until she was forced to accept that the woman had no more blood to give. She stepped back, panting heavily, soaked in blood and sweat. The ecstasy tingling in her loins spiked again as she committed the sight of Rayne’s limp, dangling corpse to memory. Her greatest foe, finally defeated. And when the Necropolis’s taint soaked into the dhampir, it would all become so much sweeter.

While Bathory had her fun with Rayne, Harley made sure the straps holding Zarya down were nice and tight. Her muscles throbbed from the exertion of hefting the bulky woman onto the table. She ran her hands over Zarya’s pronounced physique, feeling along the ridges of her biceps. “This one’s a real treat,” she remarked. “We don’t need ourselves a Brute Squad anymore, Bathy. She is the Brute Squad.” She grinned, hands slipping to Zarya’s chest to give her firm breasts a squeeze. “She’s like Bane, but with more squishy, fun parts.” She turned to examined the pink-haired woman’s crotch, mildly disappointed that there wasn’t a tuft of pubic hair the same shade of pink as her head hair, but very intrigued by the distinct bulge of her thick clitoris. “And I think she might even have a bigger dick.” Her mind wandered as she thought of Bane.

“That guy,” she reminisced. “Classic overcompensation. All those muscles, all that bulk, but down between his legs?” She held up her hand, extending her pinkie and curling it downwards. “Thimble dick.” She glanced over at Bathory, but the woman wasn’t listening, too busy dragging her tongue across Rayne’s dead flesh. She shrugged and returned her attention to Zarya, climbing onto the table and spreading her legs wide to straddle the woman’s chest. She leaned down, tickling a finger against the tip of the unconscious woman’s nose. “Who’s gonna be the biggest, baddest zombie slave girl in all the land?” She giggled. “That’s right, it’s you, honey.”

Zarya groaned, shifting uneasily on the table and muttering some half-conscious Russian retort.

Harley snatched up another screwdriver – Philips head – and slotted it against the muscular woman’s eye. With a grunt and a shove, she forced the slender rod of steel through Zarya’s eye and into her brain. The big Russian’s eyes snapped open from the sudden pain, staring up at Harley with confused anger. She let out a yell, flexing and easily snapping an arm free from the ropes holding her down. Harley gasped as Zarya’s big hand reached up, fingers closing around her throat and clamping down. She quickly gave the screwdriver a quick twirl, scrambling Zarya’s brain. The woman’s fingers twitched, clenched harder for a moment, then relaxed. Her thick arm drifted back down, weakly pawing at Harley’s breasts. Zarya let out a pained whimper as the screwdriver slid free.

Harley let out a purr of desire, enjoying Zarya’s fumbled groping of her breasts. “Nothing like ruining a perfectly good brain to really get a girl’s motor running,” she remarked. “Is mama’s new puppy hungry? I’ve got something for you to eat.” She climbed further up Zarya’s prone form, dropping her naked snatch down onto the woman’s face. If Zarya possessed any knowledge of the intricate nuances of cunnilingus, those memories and techniques had been scraped away, but she didn’t need a higher degree of intelligence to grasp the basic concept. Harley moaned as the woman’s tongue slid through her folds, settling her full weight onto her face and making sure both Zarya’s mouth and nose were thoroughly smothered. “I could sit here all day,” she whimpered. “Or, y’know, at least long enough for you to die.”

Riding the face of a lobotomized victim proved to be as fascinating as it was pleasurable. Harley felt Zarya’s tongue jabbing into her more urgently as the air in her lungs grew stale. It was clear she was starting to panic, but she no longer possessed the basic problem-solving techniques required to figure out why her body was suffering. So instead of struggling, she was dumbly trying to lick a breath of oxygen out of Harley’s slippery sex. Harley clutched at the muscular woman’s pink hair, shuddering and gasping as waves of ecstasy rose through her. When Zarya’s tongue slipped limply away from her cunt, she kept on riding, grinding, moaning. Harley’s eyes rolled back, spine arching as she turned her face upwards and let loose with a powerful scream, gushing her juices all over Zarya’s lifeless visage.

Harley wiped the sweat from her brow and rolled off of Zarya’s corpse. She dropped onto her feet and stumbled, leaning back against the table to wait for her muscles to stop seizing. “Fuuuck, that’s good,” she groaned. “Remind me to kill more bitches that way.”

Bathory lowered Rayne’s corpse to the floor, unbinding her. The spark of fear the dhampir had inspired in her was gone. Even if she returned to life unwilling to accept orders, she was confident she could dispatch the woman just as easily the second time around. Her breath quickened as she saw the first twitch of zombification creep through Rayne’s muscles. I swear, if this one only listens to Harley, too, I’ll carve up everyone and go back to my passion of interior decoration, she thought. Her bottom lip curled inward, chewing nervously at it, as Rayne released a groan, murky eyes blinking slowly. The undead dhampir sat up in a series of awkward movements, relearning how to work her muscles. Her eyes found Bathory, head tilting to the side, curiously.

Rising to a stiff posture, Bathory conjured a sense of domineering power. “Crawl to me,” she ordered in a firm voice.

Rayne sat there, staring at her, just long enough that Bathory almost turned to retrieve the circular saw. Then she rolled to her side, rising onto her hands and knees. She crawled the short distance to Bathory, just as she’d been ordered. A psychotic grin spread across the Nazi doctor’s face. She thrust one leg towards her zombified slave. “Lick my boot,” she growled. Rayne stared dully at Bathory’s foot then slowly lowered her head, dragging her tongue across the top of her footwear. Bathory let out a cackle. “It worked! She’s mine!”

“Congratulations, Bathy,” Harley called over as she helped the freshly zombified husk of Zarya slide off the table and stand. “How does it feel to be a mother?” Her attention remained fixed on the beefy zombie, ordering her to perform a series of poses that flexed her thick muscles. Harley grinned sloppily, cooing over the spectacle. “I’m gonna miss Red, but you’re gonna make a much better bouncer, baby.”

Bathory amused herself by ordering Rayne to get dressed. The zombie dhampir fumbled with the clothing, really struggled to get the nearly skin-tight leather pants up her legs, but she managed it eventually. Harley was content to leave Zarya in the nude. “It’s the more enjoyable show,” she explained. But Bathory wanted Rayne in her outfit, a constant reminder of what she’d once been. It made what she now was all the more satisfying.

“Is it safe to arm them?” Bathory asked as Harley ordered Zarya to retrieve her Particle Cannon.

Harley laughed. “Not for anyone we don’t like.”

It was far from a reassuring scientific explanation, but it was good enough for Bathory. She picked up Rayne’s arm-blades and returned them to the dhampir. Rayne took them and Bathory was a little unnerved by just how naturally she seemed to carry them. If some inkling of Rayne’s personality persisted, even a flicker, it would likely lead to catastrophe. But even weaponized, Rayne remained passive, waiting for her next order.

Bathory was still trying to decide what that order should be when the seizures started. Both zombies began to shudder wildly. Bathory backed away, looking to Harley. “What the hell is this?”

Harley shook her head, giving Zarya some distance as well. “No idea! I ain’t exactly a zombie physicist over here!”

The two moved closer to each other. Bathory grabbed the circular saw. Harley snatched up the rubber mallet. They watched their zombies jerk and twist about, growling and gurgling with pained utterances. The sound of stretching, tearing flesh filled the air. Zarya’s already prominent muscles bulged larger. Bones popped and creaked as her body grew, stretching nearly a foot taller and thickening. The hand holding the Particle Cannon split open, tendons and meat curling around the weapon, partially absorbing it into her arm. Her jaw stretched open wide, teeth sliding free from bleeding gums, pushed out by the growing row of vicious fangs just behind them. Her hair fell away in clumps, a mohawk of bone-like spikes – still tinted the same vibrant hue of pink as her follicles – erupted from the top of her skull. With a final growl, Zarya’s hulking figure relaxed, dropping down to one knee, overwhelmed by the sudden, violent transformation.

Rayne’s skin sloshed away, revealing a glistening, scale-like ebony. Her clothing sank into her, fusing with her, leaving behind the black and red sheen of the leather but exposing her nipples and genitals fully. The skin peeling away from her arms gathered around her arm-blades, pulling them upwards and attaching them to her body, a pair of gleaming lengths of sharpened metal extending from the grotesquely twisted flesh surrounding them. Her milky eyes popped, leaking fluids down her black, scaly cheeks as new eyes – a fiery red – grew within the sockets. She cried out, bending forward as her spine bulged across her back, thick fins splitting through her skin and raising several inches into the air. Her feet curled and molded into her high-heeled boots. Her toes merged together to form a pair of vicious claws, bone spike jutting out of the backs of her feet to leave her perched menacingly.

Bathory and Harley stared at the mutations, stunned, still ready to defend themselves if necessary. But in the wake of the remolding of their flesh, Zarya and Rayne returned to their passive, obedient states.

“This is awesome,” Harley cried out suddenly. Bathory jumped, immediately hating Harley just a little more. “We’ve gotta couple of super zombies!”

Embarrassed by how easily she’d been startled, Bathory still had to admit that Harley had a point.