For the past couple of weeks, Gotham had been beneath heavy, purple storm clouds. The rain had been torrential and with almost no respite. It was utterly miserable. Today however, Harley opened the curtains of her apartment to be met with glimpses of sunshine in the overcast sky. She felt a smile tug at her lips. Something told her this was going to be a good day.
Turning away from the window, she opened her wardrobe and pulled out a white blouse, dark trousers and a plain blue bra with matching panties. After her shower last night, she had braided her hair while it was still wet, so when she pulled out her hairband and gently unwound the plaits, her golden locks hung in soft curls.
She slipped out of her pyjamas and dressed as quickly as she could. Gingerly applying mascara and a thin layer of lipstick, Harley surveyed herself in the mirror. It'll have to do I'm already late. Throwing on her coat, she grabbed her keys and handbag from the side and left her flat.
Once outside, Harley jogged to her car and hastily climbed in. Maybe she could make it to work in time to grab breakfast from the dingy cafeteria at the asylum. The traffic was thick as she joined the swarm of commuters. Thankfully, Arkham lay on the outskirts of Gotham and soon its wrought iron gates loomed in front of her; sandwiched between tall, stone walls that ringed the grounds.
She pulled up and flashed her ID at the guard, who barely looked away from his newspaper and coffee before waving her through.
This wasn't really surprising. Despite the ridiculous amount of funding from Wayne Enterprises over the years, security was generally weak and breakouts from the patients weren't uncommon.
The driveway was long and bordered by dead or dying trees. Arkham asylum itself looked like it was straight out of a comic, with gothic-style windows, grey walls and narrow front doors. Harley stepped out of her car and rushed up the steps to the entrance, glancing at the sign to her right which read in bold letters 'Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane'. The receptionist smiled politely as Harley hurried past her to her office.
The corridors were all redone at some point, but the paint had faded to a dismal grey and flaked off in some places in pieces the size of playing cards. Her heels clicked loudly as she strode through the identical passages. Not for the first time she wondered how easy it would be to get lost down here; to take a wrong turn and just keep going. True the asylum was teeming with cameras, but she doubted anyone would actually check the tapes.
Suddenly, Harley was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of running footsteps. Ahead of her, an agile figure rounded the corner and sprinted towards her. He was breathing hard and had a shock of green hair and translucent white skin. Her brain kicked into action. Oh my god it's the Joker. She had only started work two months ago and wasn't cleared for the maximum security wing, so had only heard stories of the crooks and lunatics it housed. The Joker was undoubtedly the most notorious. He was the main topic of conversation in the staff room – he'd escaped a record eleven times, could not be calmed by any known sedative, cackled as though possessed and terrorised other patients and guards alike. She'd never seen him in person before, just on the news and in photographs.
Harley froze like a deer in the headlights as Joker lifted his gaze from the floor as he ran. Their eyes made contact, icy met ocean blue. The air seemed to crackle with electricity and a shiver rolled down her spine. The Joker slowed to a leisurely pace and strolled the last couple of steps towards her. She felt the breath hitch in her throat. He was unrestrained. Would he kill her? Adrenaline was coursing through her blood. There was nothing stopping him, except a three meter gap, two meters, one meter. Without warning he paused; his piercing eyes drinking her in.
'Where have you been hiding from me Doctorrr?' Joker drawled. His voice was silky smooth like honey, but deep and commanding. 'I just know I would remember seeing you around.'
'I-I'm not cleared for…' She was interrupted by the sound of the Clown's laughter. It started slowly then began to bubble out of him in floods; echoing off the walls. She felt her eyes widen at the sound. It was bone-chillingly hypnotising. His porcelain shoulders heaved with his chuckling, blurring the many tattoos that stained his skin.
Harley felt her eyes roam over his body from top to bottom. His unnaturally green hair was smoothed back and was a stark contrast to his pale skin. His forehead sported dark scrawly ink that spelt 'damaged'. Hairless eyebrows sat above his shining blue eyes, which reminded Harley of a predator's. His smile was blood red and his metal teeth glinted under the corridor lighting. Broad and muscular shoulders shook with his laughter and were covered in a random collection of 'ha's and drawings. He was wearing Arkham issued tracksuit bottoms and slippers and looked completely breath-taking. Breathtakingly dangerous, Harley mentally corrected herself.
At that moment, three guards rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, brandishing batons, tasers and a straitjacket. Puffing from exertion, the closest guard struck a still cackling Joker in the stomach. If anything his laughter grew louder. He didn't resist the restraints that were swiftly strapped round him.
The slowest guard, who'd only just caught up with his colleagues, put his hands on his knees as he panted. He did a double take when he saw Harley standing wide-eyed and almost as pale as the Joker himself.
'Doctor Quinzel are you alright?'
'Er yes thank you Mr. Cash.' Harley whispered back to the head of Arkham security.
'How in god's name did you get him to stop running?' Aaron Cash turned back to the two guards who were struggling to lead Joker back down towards the maximum security block. 'Can one of you shut him up, he's giving me chills.' He snapped.
Now completely confined by his straight jacket, Joker was roughly struck again. It was like he was superhuman Harley thought, as she watched it have no effect on the clown at all. In frustration, a guard brought a taser to the Joker's neck. There was a sickening crackle.
'Hahahah..haha..ha..ha..hahaha…'
Aaron visibly stiffened at the continuous laughter and marched over to the Clown Prince of crime. With a fury, he hit Joker in the gut with his baton once, twice, three times. 'And that's for giving us the run-around you physchotic monster.'
'Haha I think the exercise did you good Cash, you're getting fat. Whoops my mistake you already were.' Cash glared daggers at the Clown but Joker continued unfazed. 'Sorry to hurt your feelings but I didn't want to sugar coat it in case you ate that too. Hahahaha…' Harley found herself pressing her lips together tightly to suppress a smile.
'Take this freak back to his cell.' Aaron spat.
Before he could raise his arm to strike Joker again, Harley stepped forward. She couldn't stand by and witness what was actually an unnecessary assault on an unarmed, restrained patient - even if that patient was an infamous serial killer. This isn't fair.
Clearing her throat she allowed a bit of venom to slip into her voice. 'Enough Mr. Cash. He needs care, not violence - and as an inmate at Arkham he's entitled to get it.'
There was a beat of silence. He stopped laughing.
'Of course you are right Harleen,' Cash nodded slowly; not entirely agreeing, but being unable to say so.
She bristled and suppressed a shudder at the way her name sounded in his mouth. Plastering an attempt at a smile on her face she added, 'It would be good if you could remember that in future', then turned on her heel and fled the four pairs of eyes that watched her go.
The Joker's eerie laughter seemed to follow her for the rest of the day.
I will try to update as soon as possible – please tell me what you think I'd love to know everyone's thoughts and ideas on the story! I would also be really interested hearing people's suggestions for the plot - hope you enjoyed reading it :)