Quinzel:

A Harlequin Romance in Harley Quinn Style

by Futuramakid

DISCLAIMER: I own none of the DC universe, nor the Harlequin Romance novels.

A/N: This was a challenge I gave myself, partially to see how well I can follow guidelines. I'm writing this fic following all the guidelines of the Harlequin imprint.

Alone once more, a battered and bruised man sat in his cell. His skin was as pale as the snow outside, and his eyes green like emeralds. He smiled a pale yellow grin framed by blood-red lips. He glistened with sweat and blood, he had not come in of his own will. Though slender, almost skinny, he was not to be underestimated- in a fight, he was formidable. This man was, after all, a criminal. But he was no ordinary criminal. This man was The Joker. The Man Who Laughed. He lived in infamy, feared even by the other criminals and lowlifes. It had been a particularly rough night for him, another stinging defeat from his arch-foe, the Batman. For the moment, he was calm, almost peaceful- as he always was between escapes, it took them off their guard. He took a bored glance through the glass window- and caught a glimpse of a new face. A woman. Azure blue eyes dotted a cherubic face, with full red lipstick. Blonde hair, tied up in the back, sat on top of her head. He'd heard there was to be a new staff here, and he knew her name- Harleen Quinzel. He winked at her. She blushed- a modest woman, she was complimented, even if the compliment came from someone deranged.

"Y'know, sweets, I like what I've heard about you," he said, "Especially the name- Harleen Quinzel. Rework it a bit, and you get Harley Quinn."
"I know. Like the clown character, Harlequin."
Ooh, she's got a wit about her. I like that.

"It makes me feel like I've got a kindred spirit here..." he said, adding as a lure, "someone I could share my secrets with."

She of course was skeptic, but continued on- after all, she had to set up her new office. She was a new girl to Gotham City, the crime hub of America. Many called it the hive of scum and villainy. And as a psychologist with a specialty for psychotics, who better to work at Arkham Asylum? It was known for eating and spitting out employees, but Miz Quinzel was something of a prodigy, and she was sure she could handle it. Even if it did hold some of the most feared criminals in the world.

Alarm bells rang. The glass of one cell broke- greenery overtook the area.
"Pamela Isley," she said under her breath, and she rushed to the area.

The instantly recognizable woman was leaving the cell, riding a growing vine.
"Miss Isley," she called, "I don't think you want to do this."

The green-skinned woman turned to face her, her rose-red hair bouncing as she did so.
"Oh?" she replied, "and why not?"

The vines shot towards her and lifted her up.
"With a little work, you could easily make it out of here straight," Harleen said, thinking quickly, "and that would be a much better spite to the Batman who sent you here, wouldn't it?"
The woman smirked.
"Nice try, but that's not my MO," she said, "Batty-boy's nothing personal. I'm just out for Mother Earth."
She threw her aside, and it all went black.

A few hours later, she came to, in the infirmary.
She slowly made sense of her location. She looked around. She noticed flowers on the table by her bed. She picked off the card and read it-
We should talk. Feel better soon!

-J.