Prologue
"Doctor? Um... Dr. Quinzel?"
"Hm?"
"We're here."
The driver stopped and escorted Dr. Harleen Quinzel to the front of Arkham Asylum. She smiled and thanked him before walking through the doors.
Crane had been long gone, still locked up in his own asylum. In a special, new, wing for Gotham's collection of strange and wondrous criminals.
The receptionist gazed up at Dr. Quinzel, her eyes heavy. She smiled a little and turned to her computer. "Third floor, all the way down the left hand corridor. Room... 323. Patient number... 401234," she sighed.
"That many?"
"Numbers are generated at random," the receptionist pressed a button by a speaker. "Can I get an escort for Dr. Quinzel to room 323? Have a seat, doctor," she waved a hand absentmindedly to the row of chairs across the hall.
A rent-a-cop jogged down the hall a few minutes later. "Dr. Quinzel?" he asked.
Harleen rose and followed him to the elevator.
"My apologies, we drew straws," he muttered, sticking a key into the slot by the 3rd floor button.
"Are you that afraid of him?" Harleen wondered.
"He's a madman, doctor. We're frightened of him."
"And Crane?"
"He's a psychopath. Don't bother with him. Really, you shouldn't bother with any of these freaks."
"Well, that's my job," Harleen said sharply.
The rent-a-cop led her down the long and twisted left hand corridor. Harleen's eyes wandered the wall, examining- almost studying- it. He stopped for a second, took a deep breath and continued.
"Three... Twenty three," he said glumly.
Harleen took notice of the door. Heavy, reinforced steel with thick strips of iron along the sides. It was welded and bolted together. The rent-a-cop unlocked it slowly and allowed Harleen to enter.
"I... Take it you are... Doctor Quinzel?" the room's occupant drawled.
"Yes I am," she turned to the rent-a-cop, "We're fine. I'll call if I need anything."
"Are you sure?" the rent-a-cop blinked.
"Positive."
"Ok... There's an intercom there on the wall. Just give us a buzz when you're done."
"Will do."
The rent-a-cop forced a smile and left. Harleen closed the door behind her.
"Getting the cops to leave us alone, do you really think that is wise, doctor?" the Joker asked.
"You're in a straight-jacket. You can't possibly harm me," Harleen said.
"Hm? Oh yes, I am, aren't I? Well, shall we begin, doctor?"
The weeks went on and Harleen began to develop an attraction to the Joker. She treasured their times together. She could remember every detail of his "room" and the rest of Arkham she had gone through to get there.
Harleen soon became obsessed with him. Her actions started becoming rash and unexpected. With her help, the Joker escaped Arkham asylum.
"Good work, Doctor," the Joker sniggered, peering over his shoulder and the blasted remains of his 'room'.
Harleen smiled, her unkempt hair covered her face. "Anytime, Mr. J," she smirked.
The Joker gave her a grin and relaxed in his seat. "Now we need a place to go. First, your apartment. That has to go."
Harleen nodded and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The Joker let out a maniacal laugh. By the end of the night, Harleen Quinzel was dead and her apartment building in ruins. The Clown Prince of Crime and his harlequin partner faded away from the limelight, for the moment.
**
"Harley, Harley, Harley... What ever would I do without you?" the Joker laughed. She smiled at him and spun their car around to face the police.
"Exit your vehicle and place your hands on top of your head," they demanded.
"Well, Mr. J?" Harley asked, cocking her head to the side.
"Run 'em," the Joker smirked.
They laughed. She stomped on the accelerator and the car reeled forward. Its occupants bailed before it collided with police cars. The Joker gazed on with eager eyes as the cars went up in flame. He got to his feet and brushed off his jacket.
"Alright Harley, let's go home," he decided.
Silence...
"Harley!" he bellowed, whipping his head around wildly.
"Looking for someone, Joker?" a familiar voice snapped.
The Joker squinted across the street. He straightened his jacket and sauntered to the voice. "Harvey!" he smiled maliciously. "Nice to see you're out too. How long's it been?"
Two-Face smirked, stepping from the shadows. In one hand, his coin, in the other, Harley. The Joker was still smiling, his eyes snapped from Harley to Two-Face and back to Harley, smile never fading.
"I've got your little girlfriend now, Joker," Two-Face said.
"I thought we were past all this. I said it was nothing personal."
"Neither is this. I'm just introducing a little anarchy into the system," Two-Face sneered. The coin flipped, spinning through the air. Two-Face snatched it out of the air and smiled. "Let's see how many people panic when the Harlequin of Hate loses his Harley Quinn," he laughed, holding the coin up for the Joker to see.
"Mr. J, don't let him do this! Please!" Harley pleaded.
The Joker laughed. Two-Face pulled out his revolver, placing it to her head. His coin hit the ground. He pulled the trigger. The Joker's back was to him, he never say the thing. He whistled happily and strolled down the street.