Harleen Quinzel was late yet again. It was a new start this time; an internship at Arkham Asylum in Gotham City. It would never have been Harleen's first choice, but here she was, standing outside the front entrance, clicking her heels together with nerves. The doors slid open and she slipped inside, the clicking of her heels down the hall the only sound she made. The asylum was huge; with windows dotting every inch of the sullen brick walls. On the inside however, it could perhaps have been described as slightly nicer. Harleen shook open her unused map, the crisp paper rustling loudly. With a long index finger, she traced the many hallways until she spotted her floor. With a sigh, she hitched her bag up her shoulder and continued down the hall, into an elevator and up the building. When she finally made it to her new office, the relief was marvellous. She flung her bag onto the desk and surveyed her surroundings. The office was small, neat and dull, but in a strangely comforting way. Harleen had shut the door instinctually, but soon there was a knocking sound, and she jumped up to open it.
"Dr Quinzel?" the woman asked.
"That's me," Harleen answered, pulling the door open as wide as it could go as an invitation for the woman to enter. The woman smiled.
"Joan Leland," she said, extending a hand to Harleen. Harleen accepted it with one of her own.
"I'm sure you were given a tour when you applied, so a new one won't be necessary, but please feel free to ask me any questions that you might have," Joan continued, their hands shaking for an awkwardly long time before releasing each other.
"Thank you," Harleen accepted, "I will probably take you up on that one."
Joan laughed. She rubbed her hands together eagerly.
"You may or may not be excited to hear that you do get to begin today," Joan began, "Although I must warn you, novices generally don't get cases such as these and with good reason. The boss wants to run a couple of trial tests first, just to make sure you're up to it."
"Is there any reason why I wouldn't be?" Harleen smiled nervously. Her fingers curled around each other as she cupped bother her hands together.
"This case has proven to be particularly problematic," Joan said, but when she caught the look on Harleen's face she added, "Oh don't worry, he'll be shackled and everything. The boss just thought that maybe a newbie could make him talk, you know, ease the air a little."
"And what are you, old?" Harleen asked, gesturing at Joan.
"Me? God no. But no one reckons I'm up for the job."
"But I am?"
"Do you want it or not? I can have it changed I should think. Give it to someone more experienced who hasn't tried yet-"
"I never said that," Harleen interrupted quickly. She couldn't let nerves talk her out of it. Imagine the pride if she actually got somewhere with her patient. Which reminded her.
"Who is my patient?" she asked.
"The Joker," Joan said, in such a dramatic tone that Harleen had to supress a giggle.
"You haven't heard of him?" Joan asked, "Dresses like a clown. Complete psychopath."
"Him?" Harleen frowned. She had heard of him, now that Joan mentioned it. He'd made the front page of the newspaper a couple of times, even though she lived in a neighbouring city to Gotham.
"Oh yeah," Joan nodded, seemingly enjoying Harleen's realisation.
"He is chained up right?"
"Of course honey. Ankles, wrists, the full thing."
"Torso?" Harleen asked hopefully. Joan just laughed.
"That depends on his behaviour," she said, "And it's been pretty good lately."
"Oh dear," Harleen sighed. The tension in her knuckles was building and she ached to bend them back. Unlike some, she adored the sound of her cracked knuckles.
"You ready?" Joan asked, "Because I'll send down and tell the guards to bring him up to a room."
"Sure," Harleen said, "I'm ready."