Charlie's eyes widened as the two people—the older man and the red-cloaked, war-painted woman—came closer. They looked like figures from some sort of horror story or fairytale. The older man had calm gray eyes that were serious and without humor. The small, thin scar that ran across his left cheek wasn't as frightening or profound as the scars of the man he worked for, but it gave him a fearsome sort of presence. His dark beard hung from his face, making him look like a sort of shaggy dog. His arms were powerfully built and Charlie knew that they must have possessed some sort of great strength to them.

But the woman was ten thousand times more frightening-looking. From the look and shape of her face she looked very young—around his age or a few years younger. Her baby-blue eyes, had they not been glowing so demonically bright, had a very childish look about them…almost innocent. But the smile that played on her black lips told a different tale altogether. Though they did not possess any scars, they were stretched out into a clownish, mischievous grin that scared the living daylights out of him. Her hair was a light-blonde sort of color—similar to his own dirty-blonde hair—but strikingly different. It hung in those girlish pigtails of hers, carefully tied back with a red and black ribbon and a set of twin bells that jingled faintly. Her face was streaked with war-paint similar to that of her boss's, adding a sense of terrifying wonder to her black-rimmed eye-markings.

This was her. Charlie knew all about her. He'd seen her on the news. This was the woman that was once called Dr. Harleen Quinzel. But she now went under a different name—a name that struck fear through his veins. Harley Quinn: lover of the Joker, clinically insane, and the worst possible person he had the unluckiness of running into.

"What do we have here?" the woman repeated, her eyes glowing with malicious delight. "Looks like someone's found us, Cutter."

The man called Cutter circled Charlie, staring grimly into his face. "Looks like it," he said quietly.

"P-please," Charlie stammered, shaking like a petrified rabbit. "P-please don't h-hurt me…"

The woman laughed and began to circle him as well, nudging Cutter as if this was some sort of hilarious prank. "'Don't hurt him' he says, Cutter. Ain't that cute?" Her white harlequin face loomed into his, staring into his eyes like some all-knowing goddess. "Awfully nosy, aren't we? Perhaps you'd like to tell us why you took the time to spy in on us…"

Charlie let out a frightened whimper as the woman pulled out a knife from one of her belt and held it to his throat. His lips quivered and he did everything he could to not lose control of his bowels.

Please, God. Please don't let her kill me. I don't want to die…

The woman smiled at his panic and laughed again. Then she lowered her knife slightly. "You look like a mouse caught by a snake," she said with a giggle. "What's your name, hm?"

"P-please…"

Her eyes sparkled. "What's your name?" she asked again softly.

"Ch-Ch-Charles," he croaked out. "Ch-Charles Hyde."

"Harley," Cutter said, looking at the medical uniform that Charlie was still wearing. "He's got some medical outfit on."

Without completely lowering her knife, she eyed Charlie's uniform with great interest, inhaling sharply with delight.

"You're in the medical profession?" she asked, grinning—if it was possible—even wider.

"Y-yes. I w-w-work at Gotham G-General Hospital."

"Are you a doctor?"

He gulped. "In a w-way. I treat patients i-if that's what you mean."

She frowned slightly. "What do you mean by 'treat'?"

He cleared his throat, trying to muster a bit of courage from within him. "I'm a medic of some sort. I treat wounded people."

"You mean like cuts, bruises, and broken bones? That kind of stuff?"

"Y-yes," his heart was thudding loudly in his chest. "But I also help with sick patients too."

"So then you know how to look after the injured?" Cutter asked. There was great interest in his voice.

Charlie swallowed and nodded. Looking back, he would realize that it was the nodding that saved his life.

To his relief and joy, the woman lowered the knife away from his face and he exhaled roughly, at ease to see that he just might make it out of this mess alive.

The woman named Harley Quinn smiled happily at her companion and did a sort of giddy dance. "At last, Cutter! We finally got our hands on one!"

"So it would seem," Cutter replied, smiling slightly as well.

"Um…what do you mean?" Charlie asked, flinching as their gazes met him again.

The woman wrapped an arm around his shoulder, digging her nails into the flesh of his arm and making him squirm slightly. "We've been needing a doc for our little group for quite some time. It was very good luck that we managed to run into you."

"W-what do you mean?" His face felt very hot as her face got closer to his. A cool sweat began to drip down his pale forehead, but the woman took no notice of it.

"We want you to join our crew," she whispered in his ear. "Mr. J would just love someone good at patchin' people up on our team."

"I'm sorry, I don't—"

"Our group gets injured all the time," Cutter interrupted. "We could use a handy fellow like you to keep us healed and revived."

Charlie's jaw dropped. Was this really happening? Were they actually telling him to join them in their battle to plunge Gotham City into chaos? This had to be a dream. No, it had to be some sort of nightmare. He'd wake up in his bed in a few minutes.

But the shaking of his knees told him that this was no nightmare. This was real.

Though he hated himself for it, he struggled to let out a sentence of protest. "But…but I…"

The woman's fingernails dug farther into his skin, making him let out a small groan of pain. "You don't really have much of a choice," she said in an almost sickeningly-sweet voice. "We need you. Nobody refuses to join us. Mr. J wouldn't like that."

Charlie could feel Cutter towering over him, staring at him with those sober gray eyes of his. The woman's red cloak swirled in the wind, giving him a glance at the diamond pattern that was stitched on the fabric.

"Perhaps he does not want to join, Harley," Cutter said quietly. "The poor fellow looks terribly bewildered. He's shaking in his shoes."

The woman looked down at Charlie's shaking knees and giggled. "Poor little guy! Why are you scared, huh? To be a part of Mr. J's crew is an honor," Her eyes began to glow with crazed fanaticism. "To be with Mr. J is to be free...a rebel against the joke that is this city. One day he will rule all of it."

He's a maniac! Charlie thought with cold dread. He kills people because it amuses him. He twists people's minds and kills them when they aren't of use to him! He'll kill me too!

His hands trembled and he bit his lip, trying not to let out another cry of protest. He wondered if this woman had once seen things that way—hadn't she once been a psychiatrist? She was living proof of what the Joker could do with your mind. Charlie could see the madness that the clown had filled her with shining brightly in her eyes.

And, apparently, she loves him! How could anything get more sickening than that? Is this what's to become of me if I join them? Will I too be reduced into some insane puppet for him to control?

The woman shook her head and came out of her trance, smiling at Charlie again.

"Well? What's it going to be, huh? Are you in or out?"

Her face was eager and, for a split second, almost perfectly innocent…like a child waiting for Christmas presents. Cutter was silent, but Charlie could read the silent plea in his eyes.

Say yes, the look said. Don't be a fool. Say yes.

Charles Hyde was many things but he was not a fool. The answer was uttered from his lips before he even had the chance to give a second thought about it.

"Alright. I…I'm in."

The woman grinned broadly and grabbed his wrist. "That's the spirit! Let's go back then. The boys will all be glad to see you."

She and Cutter began to lead him down the alleyways, shoving him in the darkness. His apartment was farther and farther away and he knew that there wasn't a chance he'd be going back to it.

At the edge of the alley-way, Charlie saw a large black van waiting for them. They herded him towards the back and opened the doors of the backseat.

He blinked when he saw that the woman was beginning to place a large sack over his head. Equally as disturbing was that Cutter was beginning to tie his wrists together.

"What are you—"

"Can't be too careful," she told him primly. "After all, ya haven't been officially declared one of us yet."

With the hot darkness pulled over him and his wrists movement-less, Charlie felt himself being pushed into the backseat. The door shut beside him and he heard the footsteps of the two people climbing into the front seat. With a low and steady purr of the engine, the car began to move, shattering the last little bit of Charlie's hope that this was not real.

He could hear them whispering to each other in the front seat—her voice bubbly and full of excitement and his voice low and serious.

And what now? He wondered in despair. What's going to happen to me now?

He would soon find out.

XxX

A/N- Hey, everyone.

So I'm starting to adjust to college but it still might take some time for each chapter to be posted. I sincerely hope that you all will stay patient with me and that you'll continue to read. I assure you that good things are going to happen soon.

For now, I'll leave you with this chapter. Hopefully, the next one will come out sooner.

Stay tuned! More to come! :)

-CAT