Confirming with a passing staff member, the session rooms were 10 per upper floor. Essentially her room was not room seventeen, so much as room seven, floor one. This put Dr Gould on the floor above. The narrow stairwells curled upon themselves, wrought iron stairs of sprawling flowers betraying the age of the Victorian manor the asylum was converted from. She was as careful as she could muster in her excitement. Placing the spindly heels of her stilettos in a pattern bordering on OCD, the centers of flowers only, least they fall through the gaps.

The door to the second floor was unguarded but a frantic scuffle on the next landing alerted her to an orderly attempts to snuff out his lit cigarette before commenting "Oh. Just a fucking intern." and pulling another from the depths of his pockets. Health facility indeed. Squaring her shoulders she peered down the hall and continued. 29... 28... 27... corner. 26... 25... 24... corner...

"Oh!"

Rounding the last corner to the stretch she assumed would contain her destination she was startled into speech by the two semi automatic weapons trained on her every move. After a moments hesitation she walked forward with a brisk air and headed straight for the room they flanked.

"Dr Harleen Quinzel for Dr Gould" she announced.

"You're new." Grunted the smaller of the two armed guards.

"I have only recently joined the Arkham staff... yes." she admitted slowly, questioning the relevance of this.

"So they're throwing you in the deep end on what, your first day?"

"I'm not being thrown. I jumped." her lips spread in a predatory grin.

With this the larger of the two guards chuckled softly and relaxed his stance somewhat.

"Oh I hope this one lives Matthews, need a little attitude to survive 'round here" he commented and opened the door between them and mockingly bowing her through.


Dr Bernard Gould paced a room much like her own. The paint and lighting had a lesser semblance of decay than her own, which gave the air a sense of a disused classroom, but it was more that this room had the feeling of being lived in. The main difference was in the form of a large glass wall between the table and chairs and the office portions. Noting the similarities between it and the doors of maximum security, Harley concluded it was the same high tech bullet proof system, effectively turning the office into a self contained panic room of sorts. While the office sported a potted plant or two, a tradition "shrinks couch" and a prim and proper desk set up, the Table side was a different beast. Clinical, as though it had been disinfected recently. The bolts securing the table and chairs to the floor filed down so as to be impossible to unscrew. No other furniture on this side, no blinds... Bars, over mesh, over safety glass, over windows. She smothered a fanatic grin. Maximum patients! Maybe just very violent Leathers... but the expense of the wall argued Rogues! If there was one thing she had noted on her tour throughout the facilities it was that expenses were definitely spared. The locks, security offices, and areas nearest the visitor center were kept gleaming, but the further from these areas you wandered, the further into rundown horror movie aesthetic you went.

Introductions ensued.

"No please, call me Bernie without patients present"

After a brief bout of small talk, "Bernie" explained that he appreciated the second pair of eyes when dealing with their impending guest.

"We cant have the guards in the room... It makes him worse, even aside from doctor patients confidentiality concerns" He runs his hands through his retreating hairline repeatedly as he explains. "Its not precisely within guidelines to keep the patient in a straight jacket past transport... or indeed at all with modern uh... well Arkham is known to support our doctors in any decisions regarding... these sorts. of patients that is."

The doctor in her was fascinated by his anxiety. All the information she could garner from his personal touches to the office space argued a creature of organisation and habit, yet here he stood on the verge of twitching like a rabbit. His breathing was calm, steady, so no panic attack. Yet it was so calm and steady she became convinced that he was in fact practicing a technique of breathing they were taught for preventing hyperventilation.


As four o'clock approached, Dr Gould took the "therapist" seat leaving Harley standing slightly behind him to the left. She knew he did this before the patient arrived in an attempt to display power over the space, that their entrance was to his domain. Moving in a second non bolted chair was not an option unfortunately. Her instructions were to not say anything, and report anything she found noteworthy of their interaction afterward. Babysitting... she sighed may as well be behind a two way mirror for all the participation.

Clank... jingle... clank... jingle...clank...

The dragging of chains carried quite clearly down the deserted hall outside, gruff voices exchanged words. Shortie and Chuckles, the guards outside the door, pushed into the room flanking a third man.

Shockingly green hair flopped haphazardly into the bloodshot eyes of the Joker as he was lead to the free seat. Pushing him into it with a hand on his shoulder, one guard kept his gun trained on the clowns forehead as the other removed chained cuffs from his ankles and wrists. Left in his sweat stained and outdated straight jacket the Joker rotated his neck as though to alleviate a crick in it as the guards walked purposefully down the hall. The pair that escorted Joker upstairs appeared to be relieving them of door duty. They took the former guards positions and pulled the door closed behind them. The slamming of the outer lock into place was loud in the silent room.

"Doctorrr" growled the most infamous patient Arkham has ever seen. His gravelly voice, though pitched to sound amicable had underlying threat built into every syllable. Harley kept her features schooled into a cool, polite expression but Gould turned a small jump at the sound of his patients voice into a lunge for the pen he had set down beside his clipboard and dating the page. "Should I say doctorrrsss?" he drew out the last syllables, clipping short others. It was intriguing, the way it made you hang on his every word to make sure you got everything.

"Afternoon Mr Joker. How are you feeling since our last session?" Gould set his pen down once more, clasping his hands before him.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Joker lilted musically.

"Doctor Quinzel is just here to observe, I'd like you to focus on me."

"Not exactly a... proper... introduction but if its the best you can dooo Doc" He directs at Gould before meeting Harley's eyes for a solid few seconds. "Charmed"

After a moments eye contact she finds herself shy, tucking the corners of her mouth in an almost smile and looking down and away. He turns back to Gould with a drawn out sigh through his nose.

"Not good Doc, not good at all..." he leans forward in his chair "I have this itch see...and I'm so... confined." he wriggles slightly as though in emphasis of his strapped jacket.

"Well that's..." Reaches for his pen only to find it gone "...Unfortunate...?" his tone become questioning as he frowns.

"Something the matter...Doctor?"

"I could have sworn... Never mind" He retrieves an identical pen from his jacket pocket and makes a few notes on his paper. The joker comically twists his head around as though trying to read it the right way up.

"The itching could be a side effect of the Strattera" The doctor scribbled.

"I don't think so" The Joker adds helpfully. "As I'm not taking it"

"You really need to take the medication you are prescribed or I cant help you!" Scolded Gould. Scolded Gould, Ha.

"Tryin' ta FIX me Doc?" as he says this the Joker leans forward as far as he can without standing.

Even from where she stood, Harley could tell the Doctor was heading down a bad path of conversation with this. He seemed to realize this, and turned his attention back to the clipboard only to find it populated by two pens.

"How did..." he turns to Harley suspicious but she is busy narrowing her eyes at Jokers attempt at wide eyed innocence. But how could he... all strapped in. "Mustn't have seen it, rolled under the clipboard or something" laughed off Gould. Joker nodded with a shrug and an expression that seemed to say "these things happen"

Gould leaned back in his chair to share the joke by smiling at Harley only to turn back and see one pen.

"You're doing something!" he accused, turning to her again "I'm not crazy!, we all saw TWO PENS, and he's all strapped up!"

"How quickly we all... turn... on each other" Joker clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "Rolled on the floor Doc, just over there"

Sure enough, they all looked and a lone pen sat on the floor beside the table. With no apology, Gould stretched from his chair, but was unable to reach. He stood and hunched over to grab it only to send it skittering a little further away towards the window in his nervous anger. As he labored to seize the pen Harley's eyes flicked back to the table at a slight movement. No pens. Harley scowled. Certain now Joker was up to something. His eyes danced as though pleased she had noticed the movement. Slowly, deadpan, he reached a hand from the collar of his straitjacket and scratched his nose.

She couldn't help it. She burst into laughter. The hand retreated, and Gould stood, pen in hand, furious.

"Think playing little pranks on me will get you in his good books or something?" he began striding at her "I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU MISSY..."

"Choose your words... carefully" Purred Joker suddenly on his feet, pen against Gould's jugular, he pressed hard enough to indent the skin. The useless straight jacket was bunched around his waist revealing his tattooed torso. "Considering there's a lady present"

Gould opened his mouth to yell for guards and died for it. Impossibly fast Harley suddenly found herself slammed against the wall, the point of the pen leaving bloody smears against her throat as the guards burst in to room, the room alarm blaring.

"Ah ah ah..." warned Joker, pulling her hair and head backwards to reveal the clicking the pen at Harley's neck. Out of fear for her life the guards lowered their weapons slightly as she struggled against him.

"You gonna FIX me too doc... find out whats wrong upstairs... put it in a neat little box then fill the box with needles and pills and ...electricity. I've heard it all"

Harley scowled and wrenched herself about in his hold.

"Bet you couldn't even give me one single theory that a hundred other quacks haven't already pegged my..."condition"... as before you" he snarled in her ear.

"That dye ya have to drown your hair in ta get it green must be some strong stuff ta seep through a skull that thick and turn ya crazy enough to grab me!" she snarled back, pushing away from the wall as hard as she could with her heel firmly planted on his socked foot. Dropping suddenly to the floor with no regard for the chunk of hair he still had in his grasp she rolled aside. His hands dragged downwards while still occupied, unable to brace himself against the sudden lack of Doctor, the force behind pinning her down now sent his forehead colliding painfully with the cement wall.

"Ha...ha...HAAA!"

The guards rushed forward to cuff him, weapons jabbing into his sides as Joker rested his hands on his head in compliance and laughed and laughed and laughed.
"I like you..." he growled struggling against the guards suddenly once more, eyes wild, as the trio made to exit the room "and I thought this place had ran out of toys..."