Churrrll HAAI ALL! This is Chapter one! So, Please, exuse the errors, this isn't a publication. It's a fanfiction. If you flame, I'll assume it's because you're a 40 year old living in your mother's basement and you're never gonna get laid, because it's true. ^^. Flamer's don't bother me, so don't even try. I post for the enjoyment of readers. Readers, don't let this discourage you from commenting. I love comments. Praise, even some criticisms as long as it's CONSTRUCTIVE. Thanks! Enjoy.
"I keep forgettin' how much I hate Gotham," She murmured to herself as she began to cross the street. Every time she had come here, it had always been the same: "No, we've never seen this man... " And the stares. Everyone stared at her as though she didn't notice them staring. A few times she had called them out on it, but it never seemed to take any effect. Besides, there were hundreds of thousands of people in the city. So many people to stare at her, so many people to sift through for him. She may never even find him... but she refused to think like that. She WOULD find him, make amends with him, and they'd be one happy family again.
=HONK!=
The bus's horn jolted her out of her reverie, and as she pulled her red scarf back over her scarred face, she looked into the window at the strange man driving. He wore strange, clownesque makeup, and he was so very familiar... No, it couldn't be him, she decided, and she yelled,"Hey, watch where yer goin', Bozo! This ain't clown college ya know!" She just walked away nonchalantly when he laughed and waved a glock at her before speeding away and joining into a long line of school buses full of children. "Geez, the freaks in this town!" she exclaimed, then turned the corner on the sidewalk. She accidentally bumped someone, and in her haste to hide her face yet again, she dropped her picture of him. It was the only picture of him with the scars she had... and her only hope of finding him. "Excuse me, Miss, but I believe you dropped this," the handsome, albeit shady-looking, young man hailed her, smiling and holding up the picture. She held her scarf up with one hand. "Thanks, I need that," She replied shortly, reaching for it with her other hand, but the man pulled it back and looked at it closer. "This gentleman looks quite familiar... the name on the back, 'Jack Napier', is that an accurate name?" He asked her pryingly. "What else would his name be, if it's not the one on the back? Why would I write that name on the back of a picture of 'The Great Houdini' or whatever?" she snapped, reaching for the photo. Again, he pulled back, smiling in a friendly way. "I'm sorry for the spanish inquisition, but in this town, you never know about names. Everyone wears a mask in one way or another, whether it be a face put on for work that's not there at home, or a big ugly Cape and Cowl to disguise oneself in the vigilante fight against crime, and that just makes it harder to find someone. By the way, I couldn't help but notice you're also wearing a mask of sorts," He spoke intelligently. "Yeah, well, I have my reasons for my 'mask', thank you very much. What's it matter to you?" "I happen to have a degree in psychiatry and have made a hobby in the psychological breakdown and complexes of people's need for masks. Even I have a mask. Would you like to see it?" He explained, as he reached into a laptop bag hanging from his shoulder. "No, thank you, I'd just like my picture back." She reached for the photo again, and this time, he let her have it. She began to walk away. "Oh, and by the way, I do believe I have seen that man recently," He called, stopping her in her tracks. She pivoted, and walked swiftly back up to him. "You've seen him? Where? When? Do you know where I can find him now?" She practically yelled in her excitement. He laughed slightly. "I'm sorry if I've gotten your hopes up, my dear, because I can't tell you were to find him, but I can give you some Information about him..." He trailed off. "You mean, for a price, right? Are you, like, the therapist of the Gotham underworld or somethin? Do ya sell drugs to the mob?" She asked, suddenly doubtful as to whether she should trust this man; she knew his type all too well. "Well, I'm not at liberty to discuss my business dealings with anyone, but because you seem so knowledgable on the subject, then... Yes, I do all those things you said, but that's no reason for you to not trust me." "No reason to trust you either." He shrugged. "That's true, I guess, but I suggest we not continue this conversation in the middle of the street. You never know who may be listening." He led her into a nearby alleyway and through a door. On the other side, there was a small, shabby looking office. He bolted the door and sat at the lone desk. "I don't believe we have been properly introduced. I am Doctor Jonathan Crane. You can take that scarf off now." She hesitated, then removed the scarf, watching for a reaction of disgust. There wasn't disgust on his face, just suprise and facination. "Wow, you really must want to find him, huh?" "How much is this gonna cost me, Doc?" She asked curtly. "For the value of the Information I hold, I would normally charge $2,000-" "Two GRAND for a little info? That's a ripoff! I'm outta here," She exclaimed as she stood up, enraged. Dr. Crane also stood and moved between her and the door. "You didn't let me finish, Miss... what was your name, again?" She glared at him, then decided, what the hell, just dealing with him is trouble, what more would a name do? "DOCTOR Harleen Quinzel...But call Me Harley Quinn, everyone does." "Harley Quinn? That's very interesting... as I was saying, Quinn, That is how much i would normally charge, but for you, I'll give it away... $200. I won't go any lower, so if you really want the information I have to give..." "All right, all right, i get the picture! Geez, Doc..." She pulled some bills out of her wallet and threw them on the desk. "But I don't want any of your shady drugs, Dr. Crane... I already feel crazy enough." "$200 is hardly enough to buy- wait," He stepped back, suprised. "You know about my compound?" "Who in Gotham DON'T know about that? It was all over the news, and you're supposed to be dead, but that don't matter. Oh, and I didn't wanna see your mask because I already know about it, Doc. Or, should I say 'Scarecrow'?" Harley said, crossing her arms. Dr. Crane allowed a small smile. "Well, you ARE a smart one. But, that also means that you have most of the information that I'm going to give you about 'Jack Napier', Unless you haven't been watching the news since the Narrows Incident, as they're calling it." "As a matter of fact, I've been out of town since not long after the Incident, so anything you have to tell me would be valuable information to me." She sat back down. "Well, Quinn, I hope what I tell you is very helpful in your search. You do realize that even if you find him, in Gotham, he probably won't answer to 'Jack Napier'. Since- I mean, If he's made a reputation for himself, that would be a little too dangerous for him, you understand. But the man in this photo is almost identical to the mastermind behind the latest spree of robberies and terrorist attacks here in Gotham. By terrorist attacks, I mean random explosions, unexplained murders, etc. They call him the "Joker". There are different stories as to why this is his name, but he likes to leave Joker cards at the scene of every crime, he tells horrible Jokes and riddles, Performs gruesome magic tricks, and he can't resist letting the cops see his face. He wears makeup, kind of like what the thugs call 'warpaint', in the style of a grotesque clown. It's very messy, and obvously, the Joker has scars very much like yours, which are painted red along with his lips to resemble a clown's smile. His hair is grown out, and dyed green. He also favors wearing a tacky purple and green suit, and carries a random array of knives, guns, and explosives. He is the most Insane person I have ever heard of, and that includes myself. The only other person in this town that may come close is the Batman. I advise you to stay out of HIS way. That's about all I have." Crane's cell phone rang then, and he answered it. "Doctor Crane... uh-huh... well, that's interesting, who-... Ah, but of course. Thank you." he hung up. "You know, you just missed him on the corner a little while ago. I just recieved intelligence that the nearby bank, a mob bank, was just robbed. The cops were able to save most of the tellers, but the Chairman was found dead, along with five hired thugs in clown masks. The tellers each held grenades without the pins, holding for dear life. I'm recieving via Text message the surveillance video. It's the Joker, Taking off a clown mask to reveal his clown face, speaking with the Chairman, and then getting onto a bus and driving away-" Harley stopped listening. She stared at the photo of Jack, and remembered the Bus driver who nearly ran her over. Suddenly, everything went into place. She wasn't going to find Jack Napier in Gotham, because he no longer existed. That was why she'd been unable to find any records of him, past or present. Now she realized she was looking for The Joker. The police were probably still taking evidence and ruining things at the bank, so there was no hope in discovering anything there, but maybe if she hacked into the GCPD records, she could find more about the Joker, and piece the puzzle, and her heart, back together. She abruptly stood. "Thank you very Much for your time and help, Doc. I really need to be going now." "You're welcome, Quinn. I need to be going myself. I have a business deal to conduct. Oh, If you ever want any of my compound... It'll take you places..." "No thanks, doc. They're probably places I don't wanna go." Crane Laughed, and opened the door for her. "That's about right." It was drawing close to twilight. "You might need to get wherever you're going before it's too dark. The wildlife in Gotham is, well, unique." "Thanks again, Dr. Crane!" She shook his hand and then rushed out the door and up the street.