Harley Quinn Drilled into My Skull, but Couldn't Find Batman's Tears | DC

Harley's drill hissed against my skull. She bet I could store Batman's weakness; I bet she couldn't. When the skull was ripped open, only a dazzling nebula of memories swirled, where Bruce Wayne's last tear fell, shed for the dead Robin. Harley laughed maniacally: "Baby, you're wrong. You're not a vessel; you are the breathing epitaph he locked into his heart." 01 Buzzing... The drill sang on my temple. Not a metaphor, but the truth. Harley Quinn, that crazy woman in the red and blue latex suit, was humming a tuneless song, pressing the drill bit against me.