Dr. Harleen Quinzel ran. Her feet were pounding in pain, but they were numbed by fear. The underground halls of Arkham Asylum were heated, but she was freezing. Her sleek brown hair ran long, midway down her white doctors jacket. Tears streaked down from her green eyes, dropping down and gracing the already flooded floor. The entire area was in disrepair, with water pipes burst, emergency lights broken, and every surface dented. Prisoners were running wild, closely followed by guards. They all, though, were running towards the exit. Some of the guards were attempting to subdue inmates, but they were just as eager to reach the exit. To escape.

The doctor had a different goal in mind. Her footsteps were lost in the chaos, but each one lead closer to what everybody was running from. As the wards lead deeper underground, the steel surfaces became colder. As Harleen neared the source of the prisoner break-out, the body count rose. More prisoners and guards were strewn across the floor, coating the walls with their blood. Slowly a sort of tinny carnival jingle began to crescendo across the battle field. The doctor slowed down, and cautiously turned a corner.

In the middle of the room a lone figure sat in a small metal chair. Harleen approached him from the rear, desperately trying to evade the corpses littering the floor. The dark character seemed to be unaware of the woman's approach, but she knew that as he sat with his head in his hands he was only ignoring her.

"Dr. Quinzel, please, sit down." His voice was gruff, as though stressed.

Harleen obeyed and quickly skirted around to the far side of the table in the pale yellow light. The chair on that side was identical to the one the man sat in, though no blood stained its surface. The room, she recalled, was intended to be a questioning room. She had sat in the very seat she was in now countless times over many years in her employment at Arkham. "Batman," she whispered," I don't understand... Why has this happened?"

Batman looked up at the doctor. To him, she was young, and sweet. Attractive. He could sense that she had a hidden secret. "Doctor, have you ever heard of the Chaos Theory? It states that minute variations on an originating position may cause astronomical differences in the result. To most, a demonstration of Chaos Theory seems random. When seen from farther back, the chaos dissipates. Order and pattern emerge."

"What are you saying? This didn't happen just by chance?" The shock on the young doctors face was evident. "The Joker... planned this?"

"Yes. Two years ago Joker attempted a similar attempt. He made it out the front gates before I was able to stop him. This time he amended his plan, but with the same basic concept. You can see the result." The dark knight paused to gauge Harleen's reaction, and continued. "Dr. Kirk Langstrom was recently hired here, as you may be aware. It seems as though the injections I gave Kirk to control his transformations to Man Bat were either neglected or tampered with. This seemed to be the deciding factor..."

Batman took a long break. His breathing was laboured, he had evidently taken some damage in the struggle. Harleen then noticed the gash on Batman's chest, stretching from sternum to rib cage. She began to panic, gasping at the sight of all the blood. Hurriedly, the woman stood slightly to dress the wound. A sense of uselessness washed over her when she recalled she had no medical supplies on her. Her frown didn't fade as she sat back down and shifted her weight, preparing for her next question. Her tantalizingly sparkling green eyes were downcast. "Why would Joker do this?"

The hero knew Harleen Quinzel had long since developed an obsession for the Joker. Recently her personality had come to almost mimic some of his mannerisms. "The simplest answer is perspective. He believes he is doing what is right. In some ways that makes him more dangerous. Just as I am fighting for my beliefs-- for the Gotham I know exists-- he is fighting for the Gotham he wants to create. One where he believes it will better us all.

"Joker believes in a different sort of reform. Criminals need to learn how to live in a society by being re-emerged into the streets. The break from Arkham is his first step, and the halls of the asylum will be the castle of the kingdom. That's why he let the criminals walk out instead of him. The palace guard."

Harleen shot to her feet. Her chair shot back and tripped over a guards cold leg. She asked if Joker was still in the asylum before the chair could mutedly hit more bodies. The silence was overbearing. She already knew her answer. Batman sat as he had been for the past several minutes. After an eternity a drop from a broken water pipe hit the water just outside of the room, breaking the silence. It was a cue that struck them both to take an exaggerated breath.

"Dr. Quinzel, you can't continue with this obsession. The Joker is trying to destroy our Gotham. Despite the constant onslaught of villains our city has constantly been on the rise, compared to the municipal slum we lived in twenty years ago." Batman continued to stress the communal sense of the city, attempting to convince her against what the Joker was doing. "We can't let the Joker ruin Gotham."

Slowly, the doctors gaze became colder than the steel walls. "Maybe it's about time for a new world order." Batman knew he couldn't stop Harleen in this state as she bolted for the door. She turned around briefly just to mutter something. "And it's Quinn now. Harley Quinn. Welcome to the dungeon, Bat-freak!"

It was all too familiar as she ran down the halls, climbing the levels in Arkham. Her tears cascaded back, reborn. She was Harley Quinn now.