The green haze of pollution rose over Gotham City. Late evening was upon the metropolis as the final lights of sun disappeared past the far mountains. A red Mercedes disrupted the empty roads as it sped down the highway. Dr. Harleen Quinzel, a brilliant psychologist behind the wheel is on her way to the dreaded Arkham Asylum. She turned off a deserted exit that not very many people take. Road soon turns to dirt, and forest encases around the luxury car. Harleen looks to see an old sign in the midst of the trees, "Arkham Asylum two miles ahead," She sighed. The long drive out of the city sure is a tough one, she thought. She looked down at the file in the passenger seat and shudders. They had caught him, The Joker. The mass murdering, psychopathic clown that brought Gotham to its knees. This was going to be a tough session, even for her.
There is a low light up ahead and Harleen slows down. An overweight security guard stands at his security booth, his silhouette barely visible due to the smog. By this time, you could not see two-feet in front of you, especially this far out of the city.
Arkham Asylum had it all, a twelve-foot chain link fence surrounding the whole property, fitted with barbed wire of course. There was also a motion sensing device at the bottom of the fence. When disrupted by a large force, say a man, an alarm would go off signaling an escape. Thank you, Wayne Enterprises. Infrared cameras were every one hundred feet and there were other patrolling guards along the fence line.
The Mercedes came to a stop in front of the placard and Harleen rolled down her window. "Lovely Evening doctor," chats the guard. Harleen noticed the coffee stain clearly posted on his chest as he leaned forward to look inside. She handed him her security badge. He reached out with his dirty, fat sausages for fingers and plucked it out of her slender ones. Harleen cannot help but see that he hasn't cut his fingernails since the last time she saw him. Dirt was caked underneath his unkempt fingernails. A look of disgust shot across Harleen's face, but vanished as soon as it appeared. "Late shift again tonight?" he jokingly asks. "Yes, I prefer getting out of the city before the crazies come out," she says impatiently. The guard chuckles, his beer belly pulling at the buttons at his security shirt. Harleen looks away and sighs, and tapped her steering wheel impatiently. The guard swipes the card, and a loud DING sounded. "You are cleared for entry," states the guard, as he pressed a button on the control panel, opening the fence.
Harleen quickly drove through the open gate and rolled up her window. As she was rolling it up, she unintentionally muttered "creep," under her breath. The lights from the car show a large mansion; huge and intimidating. No lights shone through the windows of the mansion. Steel bars reflected the light from the car as Harleen drove past. She drove to the left side of the mansion and pressed a button. The large garage opens and she drove slowly onto the platform. After 30 seconds, the platform took the car down to the underground parking. Harleen slowed the Mercedes as it went down a well-lit concrete path that spiraled under the mansion. There had been some recent changes since the Asylum first opened. The mansion itself is not used. Instead, an underground labyrinth was built to serve the mansion's purpose of locking away Gotham's mentally unstable criminals.
Finding herself in a large empty parking lot, Harleen parks the car, grabs the file, and opens the door. You could say that Harleen was a heart breaker; her blood red hair flew around her face as she turned to lock her door. She wore a white lab coat with a bleach white button shirt under and black pencil skirt. Harleen always looked good for work. She fast-walked through the halls, disrupting the serenity with her heels echoing across the halls.
Dr. Harleen Quinzel is tacked on her office door as she unlocked and opened the door. Quinzel turns on the light to find a purple book lying on her desk. Harleen had a confused look on her as she picked it up and flipped through it. The book is old, and it seemed to have been heavily worn. The edges are burnt and the pages yellowing. The writing inside covers most of every page and looks almost as a journal. It looks like it went through hell, she mentally noted. She flipped to the first page and reads the single sentence in the middle of the page.
The intelligent man, who fills the fool's role, conquers every foe.
THE JOKER
Suddenly, a playing card falls out of the book, as there's a bang at the door. Quinzel jumps and looks at the face down card. She looked at the door and back at the desk, setting down the book; she quickly picks up the card and put it in her lab coat. She opens the door to see overseer of Arkham. The overseer was a tall, sturdy man with a thick beard and rounded glasses. His face was stern and thin, he looked stressed. You could tell he demanded perfection in his presence. "Good evening Doctor Quinzel, may I speak with you?" "Of course, please come in Dr. Strange. I was expecting you to drop by." Harleen turned around to her desk and sat down with book and file in hand. She looked up at the overseer as he opened his mouth to speak. He then shuts it and reopens it again. Hesitantly he says, "I know you volunteered to evaluate, our new . . . . .guest." Harleen nodded in agreement and leaned forward to focus on what he was saying. "I just want to let you know that, this evaluation is under your jurisdiction and this high-level patient will be heavily chained and watched during your interviews." Quinzel leaned back into her chair and looked at the overseer with a look of annoyance on her face. "I do not want to be watched during this, it will distract me." "I cannot allow that, it is too dangerous," he quickly shot back. "I've dealt with men like him my whole career. I will not allow you to be in the same room as him without protection nearby." The overseer gave Quinzel a concerned look and continued his plea, "He is . . . . different. He knows exactly how to get into your head and will to the best of his abilities, trick you." Quinzel glanced down at the file. A bright, red TOP SECRET was stamped across the manila folder. She sighed. After a small moment of silence, Harleen glances back up to the overseer. "He'll be completely constrained right?" The overseer nodded once. "Good. Then I won't have any issues dealing with him. I didn't go to seven years of school for nothing." The overseer looked away and sighed in discontent. "You are right, you are our best psychologist, and I believe in your talents as a doctor. But do heed my warning for your own sake." Quinzel beamed back at him, thinking she had won. The overseer slowly got up from the chair he was sitting in. She did not particularly like her boss, he made the Asylum seem as a hotel meant for guests to come and go. "Goodnight Doctor Quinzel," he politely said. "Goodnight Overseer," Harleen replied back, her winning smile still on her face. The overseer opened her office door and left the room.
Quinzel picked up the file again and began to read it. The clock on her desk read eleven o'clock, besides the security, everyone was home now. When Quinzel had heard that the Joker was to be at Arkham Asylum, she quickly volunteered to be the one to evaluate him. She begged the overseer to allow her to stay overnight. Quinzel enjoyed working at night more; it suited her habit of enjoying being alone.
Harleen had studied the Joker as much as she could when he first started his "career" as a criminal. If you could even call it a career, she thought. She had been closely watching all of his terrorist attacks on the news. She wanted to know what his motive was. Usually when someone is causing this much chaos, they have a reason: religion, money, or even power. The Joker seemed to have no motive but only to cause chaos to Gotham. Quinzel glanced at the book; it still lay where she left it. As she reached for it, she remembered the card in her lab coat. Pulling it out of her pocket, she studied the card. It was a joker card and the face had red marks forcing the joker to smile. Quinzel's night was just starting.