Chapter 1 everyone! I hope you enjoyed the prologue and the new spin on Harley Quinn! I must stress that's not a multipersonality disorder gimmick like Two-Face but more of like it's her conscience talking to her. I call it Harleen and her current state Harley so then I can make a distention.

R&R my friends!

With Love ~Dresner


"Oi! Reggie boy." The cheery voice of Sean 'Magic' Disney called to Allen as he lay awake in his cot in the guard station above the intensive treatment screening tunnel. Allen turned over to see Sean approaching him with a cigarette in his mouth like he always has.

Sean Disney joined Coldwater after bailing him out of a British prison for the crime of killing thirty British soliders in North Ireland with the IRA with an old World War One Mauser rifle in the winter of 2011, three years ago, and earned a reputation for disappearing almost like magic. The nickname Magic also fit perfectly with his last name of Disney, no relational to Walt Disney, as he started leaving little Micky Mouse and Donald Duck figure at his positions to toy with the British army and police. Then his luck ran out when he pulled the trigger on the Police commissioner in North Ireland and a counter sniper team shot him in the stomach. Sean survived and was taken to a British prison where he was convicted for treason against the British nation. But Coldwater saw his skills as invaluable to any mission and soon bailed him out of prison, sharpened his skills at a Russian based Sniper school, and sent him out into the world as a gun for hire. A tale, mutton chopped, and chuckled filled Belfast born Sean Disney was a confident and deadly sniper. Sean wore a black BDU tunic, Tiger striped camouflage fatigue pants, Black face paint, combat boots, green and black shemagh scarf rapped around his neck, Black beret, and a GOL Sniper Rifle on his back.

The Irishman snaps his fingers in front of his face, "Reggie boy, Pull up your socks! The bloody clown is here and his bird is gone. Shite might get a little arseways so be wide, grab your shooter, and bring your courage. God knows we need a lot of with the sorry lot down their." Sean said in his cheery voice, but with a serious tone as he pointed at the jumpy Arkham guards as they trained their weapons on the restrained Joker as they escorted him through the tunnel. Batman was close to Joker, Sign that things might get a little rough from the way Sean sounded.

"Are you two done fiddling about?" The proper English voice of Edward 'Khaki' Price said from the door way.

"Aye Khaki," Allen replied using his nickname, a derogatory name for Englishmen by the Afrikaners. "What's the Irishman talking about this time? Is Harley gone?"

"Not sure at this moment, But what I am certain of is the nefarious miscreant known as 'The Joker' is in the proper hands of the Arkham authorities." Edward replied.

Edward Price was an awkward looking figure of about 5.5 clad in a dark Khaki jump suit with hood over his head, black combat gear, combat boots, balaclava covering the bottom of his face from the nose down, grey British flag embroiled on his shoulders, and holding a FN MAG machine gun by the pistol grip with the gun resting firmly across his shoulder. Belts of ammo were draped around his neck and ammo boxes strung from his combat webbing. It was a combat load that would bring even the strongest of men to a wheezing halt, but not Price. Under the blue jumpsuit was a firm build ox formed from the most grueling training course that the British Empire could create for one of the world's most elite fighting forces: The Special Air Service, Or SAS for short.
Edward came from a rather well off and well to do family in London until he joined the British Army against his fathers wishes. Being a wealthy man and apart of high society he told his son time and time again to Join either the Royal Navy or The Royal Air force due to the prestige of it's Officers and it's status as 'exceptional' among his inner circle at the local country club. But being hard head just like his father, Edward joined the British Army in 1998 and soon was selected for training in the British parachute regiment where he earned the rank of lieutenant after Operation Barras in Sierra Leone in May 2000. His valor, bravery, and over all fearlessness brought the attention of the Special Air Service.
Two years of grueling training molded Edward into a fine tool for war and after his honorable discharge from the armed services, Edward joined Coldwater International to further his skills and make a little money of his own. Raised a gentleman with the Heart of a lion, Edward can be your best friend or your worst nightmare. His skills with his MAG earned him good marks with Commander Goosen, but even the hard boiled commander couldn't help but throw a few slurs at a former master of his former home of South Africa. Johann, along with the other three members of the 9th Company, called him Khaki after the color of his jump suit as well as the old slur that Allen and Johann knew back home.

"In other words boyo, We better get a move on before those Eejit's muck up this milk run." Sean translated crudely as he handed Allen his Saiga-12 and his slouch hat.

"Ja." Allen confirmed as he threw on his webbing, hat, and took his gun. The three took the stairs down to the doors where they saw Mr. Aaron Cash spitting back at the Joker's taunts. Near by was Commander Johannes Goosen with their medic, Frenchman Jean-Baptiste 'Froggy' Astor, as they spoke lightly with Aaron Cash about the whereabouts of Harley Quinn.

Johann saw the trio out of the corner of his eye and broke conversation with Cash for a second to give an order to accompany the escort team and Batman to the holding cells. The three gave a nod and began to join up with the Arkham guards and Batman to escort the Joker.

"Lookie here!" The Joker exclaimed with glee and laughter, "Don't you three look so tough and macho! Your making batsy here a little jealous with those BIG guns of yours! Hahaha!"

Allen smirked a little, but Sean only scowled and Edward didn't respond and kept walking with weapons at the ready if the Joker pulled a fast one. After a lengthy walk down the corridors of the intensive treatment center the trio began to chat a little to break the droning of Sharp's usual speech on how the criminals will not escape the Asylum.

"What made you join Coldwater mate?" Sean asked Allen in a friendly tone.

"Things got a little hot in Cape Town, my birth place, and I had to leave the Fatherland." Allen told him with a sigh as he remembered his beautiful homeland.

"Kill a prostitute? Gawk at Mandala's corpse without shedding a tear? Or all the above?" Sean chuckled and so did Allen.

"Nothing really, But thing's just became unbearable around the country even before he keeled over. After he passed it just got worse so I left and joined with Coldwater. What about you Magic?" Allen replied.

"Ex-IRA, use to build bombs and shoot wankers who stepped into my country." Sean said proudly until Edward gave a loud cough.

"Then your luck ran out once MI-5 traced one of your Blataut figures back to the cheeky bastard who calls himself 'Magic' and his last name is Disney. Rather obvious especially for the little humor you have." Edward said with a scowl.

"Took you long enough to find me in that barn their Khaki, Mister MI- whatever and god save the fokken Queen." Sean said with a harsh tone.

"Don't get your nickers in a bunch Irishman, just be glad you were caught by a professional and not a rozzer." Edward reminded him arrogantly when he brought a stop to Sean's sniping crusade.

"A professional wanker employed by a Tool to suppress the freedom of the people to resist. This time was different in that you couldn't just pay us off with your worthless pounds!" Sean replied in a truthful and harsh tone. "The only reason why the IRA ever back off in the 90's is because you paid us off and the red's running it just turned over on their backs with out a word said. You just can't keep blokes like me from fighting the good fight, no matter how much you pay out the nose for it."

Edward only scoffed and ignored Sean's rantings as they came to the medical adviser at the gate nearing the elevator to the holding cells. The doctor examined the Joker closely and reported the usual cracked ribs and other batman related wounds. But Allen wasn't watching the Joker as he should have been and drew his attention to the odd looking prisoners being escorted away on the other side of the hallway.

"Hey, My bru," Allen said, nudging Sean to the strange prisoners being escorted down the hall. "Who are those guys? Blackgate domkop's right?"

"Aye." Sean replied calmly. "Don't worry about those-"

The maniacal laughter of the Joker broke his train of thought as the guards became jumpier and more nervous as they brandished their weapons at him. "NEED TO TAKE MY TEMPERATURE DOC?! I'll be happy to drop my pants." The Joker chuckled madly at the Doctor.

"Get him out of here." The Doctor growled at the guards as the Joker's taunting laughter echoed through the asylum. The doors opened as the pre-recorded voice of the asylum gave the guards the Shoot to Kill permissions and pacification systems were active. The elevators wench wined and screamed in agony as a heavy and foul smelling load came from the bowels of the Intensive treatment center...

"CROC OLD BOY!? IS THAT YOU?!" The Joker shouted gleefully as the elevator came to a halt and the mammoth hulk of leather skin and swamp land known as Killer croc appeared in all of his gruesome cannibalistic glory.

Croc lifted his disfigured and crocodile like snout into the air and took a long whiff of the air before narrowing his eyes toward batman. "I've got your scent BATMAN!" He groaned before the collar around his neck shocked him into complacency. "RIP OUT YOUR HEART! EAT YOUR BONES!" The beast snarled as the guards found the nerve to do their jobs. The beast's feet shook the ground with every step until he entered the other room. The trio walked forward with Batman and the Joker, but Boles stopped them.

"Go with Croc's detail and make sure that monster doesn't eat another one of my boys." He ordered.

"Like hell we are you motherless gobshite." Sean responded, "We're coming with you frankey boy."

Boles shoved the barrel of his G-36 into Sean's face, "GO. WITH. CROC." He repeated, his breath thick with whisky and bourbon.

"Can't hold the demon drink can ya frank?" Sean smirked as he put his rifle on his back and brushed Frank's rifle away from his face. Sean got into Frank's scared face with a light little smirk, "Do you believe in god franky? I hope you do, but if you don't I would love to teach ya the good word. Starting with the Holy Trinity." A quick strike across Boles face followed by a quick kidney strike followed in the wake of Sean's words and careful footwork. Boles rifle fell to the ground and was kicked across the floor by Edward who kept Allen at a distance as they enjoyed Sean's show with Boles. "Footwork, timing, and hitting! And a little bit of dirty work. Learn these, my uncle'd say, and you'll inherit the Earth as surely as the meek." Sean said as he threw Boles to the ground and retrieved his rifle from the other side of the room. Sean returned to Boles to pick him off the ground and shoved the rifle in arms. "Now for god's sake clean yourself up, Not even your ma could love that mug."

Sean rejoined with Edward and Allen, Edward giving a disapproving glare. Sean just smirks, "What are ya gawken at Khaki?"

"Boles." Edward replied in an indifferent and contemplating tone, "I don't trust the man."

"Who would trust a wanker like'em?" Allen replied to which Sean chuckled and Edward nodded.

"At least that's something me and Khaki here can agree on." Sean remarked as the three mercenaries waltzed down the Corridor to watch over Killer Croc.


"Monsieur Cash?" Astor asked in a polite tone of voice.

"Yeah Froggy?" Aaron Cash responds by calling Astor by his nickname, which insults him.

"Have you any idea of the where about of this Harlequin Johannes speaks of?" Astor asked, biting his tongue from cursing out the American.

"You mean Harley Quinn? Nah, she escaped yesterday and some of the prisoners say she skipped town. Sharp isn't to worried though his prize is the Joker." Cash told him as Johann, Astor, and himself exited the Intensive treatment building and into the darkness of the night.

"Warden Sharp is more concerned with his political ambitions than I could have thought then." Johann remarked as the cold night air graced his face.

"Dire quoi?" Astor asked curiously.

"Isn't it obvious to you Jean?" Johann asked his french comrade. "If die nar is cured of his ailments of the mind then Warden Sharp can use that as a floor for his political aspirations in that city." Their eyes drew to the bleeding wound that was Gotham city just across the bridge. The light of the city seemed to be contained by the shadows of the monolithic towers of the front gate leading into Arkham Isle.

"The city is filth." Astor remarked Sharply.

"Indeed, but it seems Oi' Sharpie has his own agenda for this pit." Johann replied as he pulled cigar from his pocket along with a lighter. The cigar was a special blend from South Africa and one of Johann's favorites. "As Khaki would say 'The best of British to him."

"Monsieur Sharp is going to need more than just Le Clown cured. What about his prostituée, Harley Quinn?"

Johann ran the cigar under his nose to take in the scent of fresh premium tobacco before placing it in his mouth and lighting it promptly. After a couple of long, deep, puffs he turned to Astor and replied, "Simple, We'll give her three ways out. I believe you know what they are my French friend."

Astor nodded at the grave statement of his commander. As an EX-GIGN, National Gendarmerie Intervention Group, to here of the Three way method is always a cold and stark reminder of what occupation he picked for himself in life. The Three ways were simple:

1): Their captured.

2): Their killed.

3): They Kill themselves.

But for this girl, it was either the Company, Police, or the Batman gets her. Death not being an option for either side, but for Johann it seemed to be an Idea. Jean-Baptiste Astor hailed from Caen, France, and was once a simple medical officer in the GIGN until his Honorable discharge after ten years of service to the GIGN and to France. Astor came to Coldwater International as first a medical intern until a patient came into his medical tent during Coldwater's deployment in Libya three years ago, Johannes Goosen. Astor preformed the operation that gave Johann his trademark eye patch and since then he has served as his personal doctor and field medic for his unit. Astor was a quiet and polite man with a thick blonde Goat-T that matched his thick blonde hair. A blue jumpsuit with a black Combat vest with the name 'GIGN' on his back reminded him, and everyone around him, of his status as a Police man, A white armband with a red cross on his left and right arms, Black beanie, combat boots, and police style combat belt made his uniform. A Bizon Submachine gun was slung on his side along with a medical satchel as well. Jean wasn't the most social of the group, but would help anyone in need of attention. After all it was his job. But Astor never approved of killing anyone, even in self defense.

"I've got some business to attend to in the medical ward. If you need any help, just ring me on the radio." Cash informed Johann and Astor before departing. Johann only nodded and continued to look on into the lights of Gotham City with Astor at his side to finish his cigar.

"A rather peaceful night don't you think sir?" Astor asked Johann in a somewhat cheery tone.

"Enjoy the peace while you can Jean." Johann said as drop the cigar and extinguished it with his boot. "Peace can be hell."


Harley propped her feet up and fixed the skirt on her new naughty nurse outfit she bought before returning to Arkham. With Bane sedated, Joker in Arkham, and Boles in position. Harley awaited patiently for the signal from the Joker to start the 'Party'.

She flipped her pony tails in a giddy flurry of joy and anticipation for her puddin's return to Arkham. She hummed a child like tune as she watched the monitors as Joker and Batman rode the elevator down to the Holding cells.

'Mhmmm..' She thought to herself as she switched channels to Allen and his two comrades as they aided the escorting of Killer Croc.

"You know he use to care about us, But not anymore." The voice of Harleen, her good side reminded her. "Even the bat some what cares about us. Why are we back here? You know this will all go to hell in a matter of hours. We both know that..."

"SHUT UP!" Harley scowled out loud as she kicked the button on the television back to Batman and Joker. She gave a dreamy sigh as she circled the Joker with her finger, but she kept looking over to Batman with the same dreamy expression.

"You can't shut me up kid, I'm you before you took over. Before HE took over!"

"Who? Batsy?" Harley thought to herself.

"Ugh, no! The clown! The fucking bozo who made you into a reality!"

"If it wasn't for that bat we would be happy together, but he makes my puddin go crazy. When we whack batsy then me and mister J will get married and... And..."

"And what? Live life as a clown... What about if he gets tired of us? What if he gets rid of us like Bud and Lou?" Harleen bit back, hitting a cord with Harley as the memory of Joker shooting her 'Babies' in cold blood.

The Joker's face expanded on screen and the code phrase uttered from his sickening voice broke every once of punch that Harleen's statement had to offer. "Honey! I'm home!"

"Come on in!" Harley shouted as she knocked over the first domino in the Joker's master plan.

"What have you done Harley?" Harleen asked in horror.

"Kicked off the party!" Harley replied gleefully.