"Hello there..." said the voice again. Harlene was too occupied looking at her surroundings. She was sitting in a cell block with iron bars all around her, and not far from her was the decomposing body of a human next to her. The initial sight of it made her jump and curl up again.
"Hey!" the voice shouted. Harlene looked toward where this male voice was coming from. She couldn't see the face of this person; he was shrouded in shadows behind the light. "I said...hello." the voice said again. Harlene was puzzled. "H-hello?" she replied back gingerly.
She wasn't sure how exactly to speak to this person. She was unaware of any intention they might have with her. She was still curled up, grasping her injured arm, which seemed to be getting worse. She tried to look past the brightness of the light to make out the stranger. "Who are you? Why am I here?" she finally asked.

"You're a shrink, no?" the stranger asked. Harlene's thoughts paused, "I suppose..." she replied. She could hear this male stranger chuckling almost inappropriately at her response. Harlene was getting frustrated, "Stop playing with me! Where am I? Why am I-"
"You, Miss Quinzel are here because I brought you here. Where you are, I don't think you need to know at this time. And...me...?" The stranger's footsteps hinted that he was coming closer to her cage. He stood in front of the bright light, only his silhouette visible. She couldn't make out anything facial of this man, except for his scraggly hair which, in the light, looked like it was a faded green color. "I am your patient." he said, resting his forearms on the bars of her cell.
Harlene looked up at him, holding her shoulder. She didn't know what to say.
Is this guy keeping me here as his own personal psychiatrist?
"How do you know my name...?" she asked. The stranger cocked his head, "I took an interest in you, Miss Quinzel. I heard your name and I just wanted to know...more about you..." he said, licking his lips. Harlene sneered at him. Perhaps he really does need a shrink...but why me?
"Where are you from, Miss Quinzel?" he asked, still leaning against the bars, seeming non-threatening. "Metropolis." she replied, staring at him, trying to make out his face. "Ah..." he said, turning around, "...wonderful medical school there. Tell me, have you ever worked on any severe cases...?" he asked.
What...?
"Uh, no, not really. I just graduated. I don't have a lot of experience yet." she replied, gripping her arm. She had tried to keep it still as long as she could over the time she had been locked in the darkness, but she knew she needed a doctor...and pain medication would be great, too.
Suddenly, the bright light shut off. Harlene curled up again, holding her legs with one arm. She felt fear creeping in once more, until she heard a loud snap and the creaking of the cell door opening.

"You can come out now..." the stranger's voice said, as if he were speaking to a child. Harlene groped the floor, not knowing what to expect. A light in a corner switched on, revealing a beautiful yet old Victorian fainting sofa placed next to a comfortable looking recliner right in an illuminated corner of what seemed to be a basement. Harlene stood up, her legs weak from sitting for so long. She slowly walked toward the doors of the cell, looking for the stranger, who was no where to be seen.
"Over here." the stranger's voice beckoned from the illuminated corner. She cautiously made her way toward the corner, her eyes searching for this strange man. "Is the doctor in...?" he said, chuckling. Harlene looked around, nodding. She couldn't tell where he was, it was like he had omnipresence. Suddenly, she felt someone behind her.
As she turned, all she saw was a ghostly white face with horrific empty black eyes and a painted red smile standing behind her. She shrieked loudly and collapsed on the sofa, terrified. He walked into the light, revealing his painted face, dirty and scraggly hair with faded green toward the tips. He was dressed in a strangely patterned button up shirt in almost a blue color, and a green waste coat over it. His purple colored pants added to the clown-like look of him.
Harlene still felt herself backed into the sofa as he walked closer. He was absolutely the most terrifying thing she had ever seen in her life. This sick man painted his face with a sadistic smile, and wore odd clown-like colors...he really did need help. "My God...you're the Joker...the Joker..." she exclaimed, staring in an awed terror. With that, he smiled and chuckled his wheeze-like laugh. He hunkered down, attempting to be non-threatening again, as a parent would to ease a child.
"I won't hurt you, sweetie..." he said, his dark eyes piercing her. He reached out his hand to her, which was stained with dried white face paint. Harlene looked at him like he was crazy, "How can I believe you? I know what you've done. I read about your work in the papers. You're...a murderer." she said. The Joker dropped his hand, looking at her with a confused frown, "So judgmental...goodness. You feed someone, you make sure they stay warm and safe, and then they call you names...," he shook his head, "...not very nice, Miss Quinzel. Your technique needs improvement." he said. He reached out his hand once more, offering to help her up from the sofa. She only stared at it.
"Well, if this won't get you up from there..." he said in a frustrated tone. He stood up and forcefully grabbed her from the sofa. Harlene shrieked as he picked her up and sat her in the recliner. He looked at her and shook his head, "When you don't cooperate with me, things will just have to be done the hard way, Miss Quinzel." he said sternly. Harlene was shaking so much the recliner was trembling as well.
"Why...am I here?" she asked nervously, tears welling in her eyes. The Joker sat down on the sofa, turning and kicking up his feet to relax. He put his arms behind his head and rested on it for a moment, "I already told you, doc. I'm your patient." he looked over at her with his piercing eyes, "...I need help..." he said in a mocking tone. He snickered for a moment at himself.
Does he really expect me to give him therapy, or is this clown playing with me?

The Joker relaxed on the sofa, closing his eyes. Harlene sat in the recliner, watching him. "I get it now." she said. The Joker opened his eyes. "I know why you picked me. It's my name. I know what it sounds like, and I've gotten comments about it my whole life." she explained. "Harlene Quinzel." the Joker said as if he were talking about someone he adored. "...Are you going to kill me?" asked Harlene nervously. The Joker sighed and sat up on the sofa, looking at her wearily. "Does it comfort you to know what's to come? Does it make you...feel prepared? What good is knowing that I'm going to kill you?" he said. Harlene stared at him, trying not to show fear. "You really are inexperienced in the art of psychiatry, aren't you?" he said with a snicker. "You killed him..." she said, glancing toward her cell.

The Joker began to chuckle a bit, "I didn't kill him! That fella's been here for a while before I arrived!" His chuckle was honest and deep. It seemed he was enjoying the idea that she believed he had killed someone.
"Besides, I don't think I could...hurt such a beautiful creature." he said, resting his hand on her leg. Harlene jumped, knocking off his hand in disgust. She felt trapped. She couldn't just run. Where would she go? She had no choice but to put up with him and wait for the right moment. The Joker snickered, "Oh, getting a bit prickly aren't we? I bet you'd enjoy a hot bath, hmm?" he said, still snickering. Harlene turned bright red. It was true, she had shivered so much and so long, her legs were no longer smooth, exposed by her pencil skirt.

Her hair was matted and greasy and she felt so exposed, especially around a sick sadistic clown. "I'll let you have that luxury, if you will promise to do me one favor, Miss Quinzel..." he offered. Harlene swallowed hard, waiting to hear his requirement. "You must promise me...that you'll treat me with therapy sessions from now on." he said with a smile. Harlene frowned, but hung her head in defeat. She was desperate for a bath. Just to be warm and comfortable again. She nodded tiredly. "Oh! Goodie-goodie!" the Joker giggled, slapping his knee. He then stood, turning his back to her and pulling something out of his pocket, "Sorry, doc, it's going to be dark again one more time..." he said. Suddenly, he covered her head with a black bag. She screamed but it seemed to echo in vain.
She couldn't see a thing, but she could feel the Joker throw her thin frame over his shoulder. After what seemed like a hike over a mountain, the bag was pulled off of her head. She nervously looked around, surprised at her sudden change of scenery. She was no longer surrounded by cement, but the clean, white tiles in a luxurious bathroom. A large jakoozi tub was in front of her, and the entire bathroom was actually quite tasteful.
"Feel free to bathe as long as you need, doctor. Everything you might possibly need is in the cabinet. Knock on the door when you're finished. And...enjoy, miss Quinzel." said the Joker with a snicker.

To be continued...