Harleen Quinnzel's perspective, a month ago:
At twenty-four years old and fresh out of Gotham University, gymnastics and, more importantly, psychology graduate Harleen Quinnzel did not expect to be called by Joan Leland, the chief psychiatrist of Arkham Asylum. Ordinarily, someone as young as Harleen would be lucky to even get an assistant job. Indeed, Harleen had until this moment resigned herself to years of boring paperwork. Then the call came. "Dr. Quinnzel," Harley heard an inner city accent (Leland was black) on her phone. "This is Dr. Leland. Please report to my office." Better make good on this opportunity.
Harleen entered the office of the woman who was unsurprisingly almost twice her age. If anything, she was younger than Harleen expected. "Have a seat, Dr. Quinnzel," greeted Leland. Harleen did so. "Are you single," asked Harleen. "Because I can't imagine the boys controlling themselves around a young you if you've got that figure now." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was still a suck-up. "Thank you," said Leland calmly, not worn down by the compliment. "Unfortunately, the assignment I have for you is less than pleasant." "Oh?" asked Harleen.
Leland nodded, saying, "We have a... difficult patient. Goes by the name of The Joker." "Why wouldn't we call him his real name?" asked Harleen. "That's just it," noted Leland. "We don't know his real name. In fact, other than that he got mutated in a vat of chemicals months ago, we don't know anything about his past other than that he was mutated somehow. But we know he's a sadistically fun-loving patient who does not respond to conventional treatment. Two of my psychiatrists have learned that the hard way. One is still out of action, thanks to him." "The other moved on to another patient?" asked Harleen. "Mm-mm," Leland shook her head. "He's dead. Don't know how he made that Smilex of his in here, but he did." This assignment just got a lot more exciting!
"So with two capable, experienced psychiatrists having failed with tragic results, I thought of you," said Leland. "You're hardly the stereotypical sensitive but boring doctor. You're young and full of life. I hear you prefer to be called 'Harley Quinn' and still do the flips and cartwheels you had to do in college." "Want to see them?" volunteered Harleen. "Perhaps later," Leland politely declined. "The point is, maybe your loose, fun style can get the like-minded Joker to finally cooperate." "Let's hope," said Harleen. "Just remember," warned Leland. "This isn't a game. You have to keep your guard up or you'll end up like the other two. Are you in or out?"
"I'm in," said Harleen, shaking Leland's hand. "Just in case he tries anything," said Leland, "Show me your moves." Harleen pushed her chair to the side to make room for three back flips and two cartwheels. She followed that up with three side snap kicks. As Leland clapped, Harleen smiled, "If he tries anything he'll learn what my rough boyfriends in school did: I ain't no mannequin." "Do us proud," chuckled Leland.
The next day, Harleen entered The Joker's cell with guards. Looking at Harleen with a threatening grin, The Joker said, "The heavyweight champion of the worlllld has his new challenger. Lllet's get ready to rumbllle!" "Do you have to be so dramatic?" asked Harleen. Joker nodded. "Because I've seen macho dudes like you before." "Let me guess," said The Joker. "You showed some college raccoons that you're nobody's bitch and think you're ready to tame a bear." "They were bigger than you," Harleen pointed out. "Like I said, I know your type. You think you're the toughest man on Earth. Then a strong lass like me comes along and puts you in your place. And I'm not afraid to save you from yourself, just in case you're wondering."
The Joker stood up and put his hands behind his back for the guards to cuff them. He seemed to mellow a little bit. "This is gonna be fun," he said.
I've won his respect. So far, so good.
Within minutes, Harleen and The Joker were in a patient evaluation room. Harleen was ready for anything. "What was your childhood like," she asked. "I don't remember," said Joker. Make that anything but that. "What do you mean?" asked Harleen. "It's very simple," explained The Joker. "Eight or nine months ago, I saw that I looked so different from everyone else. That's as far back as I can remember, Doctor. The cop scientists say that I took a dip in the chemical drink." He took a break to laugh, though Harleen found that dangerous, not funny.
Harleen couldn't help but feel sorry for The Joker's extreme case of amnesia. Don't you dare show weakness to this psycho! "So," she asked, "You're trying to tell me that you don't remember anything before that? Playing as a child? Making friends? Your first kiss? Graduation day?" "I remember bits and pieces." "Then let's put humpty-dumpty back together again," suggested Harleen. "One problem," said The Joker. "What's that?" asked Harleen.
"The flashbacks are always changing," explained The Joker. "Take, for instance, what I was before Batsy took me here. Was I a gangster using a chemical plant to store things before he pushed me into a vat of chemicals? A failed comedian who joined a group of robbers who were foiled by Batman? A worker who panicked upon seeing him in person and jumped into chemicals by mistake? A junkie he tried to get out of trouble and... didn't?" The Joker laughed again. "Slay me!"
"This is serious business, Joker," said Harleen. The Joker shut up. "So let me get this straight. All your possible origins are different but they all agree on one thing: The Batman made you this way." "Hadn't thought of it that way, but yeah," said The Joker.
Although she still wasn't letting The Joker see it, Harleen was angry at The Batman. Gothic Report , specifically it's main crime writer, Christie Whitlock, was right. Batman had ruined this man's whole life! The Joker's crimes were Batman's fault. Without him, The Joker would still be a normal, sane man. Yet only The Joker was in a cell. Alas, Harleen couldn't do anything about that. All she could do was save her patient.
Batman's perspective, present day:
The Batmobile had hooked the trunk of some escaping bank robbers' car. Batman and Robin got out and saw the three masked robbers doing that on both sides. "B+ for being secure enough guys to wear panties on your heads," said Robin. "F for stealing." Since the robbers waited this long to draw their guns, Batman figured that they were amateurs. Sure enough, the Batarangs from who the press had billed The Dynamic Duo disarmed the men before a single shot was fired.
While Batman right crossed one robber and shoved another's into a car door to knock him out, Robin took care of the one on his side of the car by jabbing, mid-level snap kicking, and roundhouse kicking him. A low spin kick by Batman to the last conscious one as he tried to get up from Batman's punch and it was over.
"Too easy," said Robin, wiping his hands off. "Don't get cocky, Robin," said Batman. "Gotham city has an old saying: if there's not a crime wave now, just wait five minutes."
Sure enough, when they got back in the Batmobile and Batman turned on the police radio, the recording said, "There has been a jewelry store robbery on Steiner Street. All nearby cars please assist. Suspects are in clown masks. The leader is suspected to be a known felon who goes by the name of The Joker."
Batman was stunned! He'd put The Joker away months ago. "You alright?" asked Robin. "It's not The Joker," assured Batman. "But it was on the damn radio," Robin reminded him. "First of all," Batman informed Robin, "Watch your language. Second, believing everything you hear will get you killed on this job. Finally, The Joker is in Arkham Asylum where I put him a long time ago. Case of mistaken identity."
"But what about the clown masks?" asked Robin. "How do you explain that?" "Could just be a Joker imitator," offered Batman. Robin still seemed unconvinced, so Batman said, "It can't be him. That's all there is to it."
They followed the fast-driving car to an apartment and parked a distance away. "Into our poor people disguises," ordered Batman. He and Robin took off their costumes and put on dirty clothes, including old baseball caps so their clean hair wouldn't give them away. Bruce wore a shaggy, fake beard as well. In the apartment they went. "Do you know where friends of ours are?" asked Bruce in a blue-collar accent. "They just arrived and would have been in a hurry." "Room 109," said the cashier. "Thanks," said Robin in his own accent, since Bruce forgot to say that.
After Batman and Robin were back in costume, The Boy Wonder asked, "What's eating you?" "You're not getting me to believe the impossible," said Batman. "It's not The Joker. It can't be." They fired their Batgrapples onto the windowsill of Room 109. "On my mark," said Batman. "1... 2... go!"
They burst through the window and attacked the criminals who were divvying up their jewelry. Batman slammed two of their heads together Robin took out another with a leaping roundhouse kick. One was left. This one had drawn his automatic pistol and backed up to the wall between the bed. Batman recognized him as The Joker.
Please let this be a nightmare.
"It's my old friend Batsy," said The Joker. "And he's endangering a kid yet considers me the bad guy?" "The only endangered species 'round here," taunted Robin, "Is you clowns." "You're definitely not his son with that sense of humor," laughed The Joker.
"How did you escape?" demanded Batman. "I hate movie trailers that give the whole plot away," said Joker, taking aim at Robin. Batman dived in front, hoping to deflect a bullet with his armor. Instead, Joker shot at the left elbow joint area of the costume, which was one of the weaker spots. It actually stung. Batman still had enough strength to Batarang the gun out of Joker's hand. For his part, Robin Batbola'ed The Joker, jump-kicked him against the wall, and held him in place.
"You OK, Batman?" asked Robin. "Just a flesh wound," said Batman, "But the answer is still no."
Bruce's perspective:
Bruce's heart wasn't into his company the next day. Hard to focus on revenue, expenditures, and supply and demand when one of the most dangerous criminals in town had somehow escaped. At least that was over. Christie Whitlock was waiting just outside his car.
We haven't agreed to a date tonight. What's up?
"To what do I owe the honor?" asked Bruce. "I wanted to see you, love," said Christie. "I came here in a taxi, so how about about driving me home? Without your chauffeur?" "I'd like that," said Bruce.
Christie's perspective:
Bruce had giving his chauffeur the day off, so he was the one driving the car. Christie got her mace out of her purse and took aim at Bruce's face. "I've got mace aimed at your face," she threatened. "Is this your idea of a joke?" asked Bruce. "Oh, no," Christie assured him. "I've never been so serious in my life!"
"Why would you blind me?" asked Bruce. "I wouldn't blind Bruce," explained Christie. But The Batman? He's another story. Yeah, I know he's really you in disguise."
"How would you guess something that ridiculous?" said Bruce. "Watch it," warned Christie. "You're determining whether I spray right now! I'll give you credit. Your disguise is perfect. You've put together one Hell of a false personality! But as Batman, you made one key mistake. He called me 'Whitlock.' I never told him my name. That was all it took. I realized that Batman was acquainted with me out of that costume. I may know a lot of people, but you being fairly big narrows it down a bit. Don't forget, that Batmobile must be owned by a rich guy. Wasn't long before the process of elimination lead me to you."
Bruce hesitated for twenty-three seconds. "Didn't you hear my voice when meeting Batman for the first time," he tried. "Batman seems to know boxing, martial arts, gymnastics, rope tricks, police detection, stealth, disguises, and that's off the top of my head," reasoned Christie. "Why not ventriloquism?"
At this point, Bruce had parked the car in Christie's driveway. "I'm not done," said Christie. "Congratulations," said Bruce. "You're a great journalist." "Thank you," said Christie." "But if you meant to expose me, you wouldn't be here." "Correct," confirmed Christie. "I'm not sure what to do. We can start with how you've been lying to me for months and months."
"I don't remember saying I wasn't Batman," said Bruce. Slapping him with her free hand Christie said, "Don't be a smartass with me, Bruce! Look at me. I know you. Yes, I can see that you're afraid I'll expose you and the boy you're calling Robin. I think I can tell if you're lying. What is Batman about?"
"You know how I lost my parents," said Bruce. "Yes," said Christie. "It shook you up but you recovered." "I only pretended so I could start training at an early age without making anyone the wiser," explained Bruce. "All those talents you mentioned? Took all my teen and pre-teen years to learn them. I don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone else ever again. If you don't believe that, go ahead and destroy me!"
"If only it were that simple," said Christie. "I now believe you aren't evil, but vigilantism isn't the answer. I-I don't know what I'll do." She got out of the car. "I need time to think. If I decide to expose Batman, I promise to think of an easy way and a hard way for you." She backed into her house, keeping her eyes on Bruce's car as it pulled out of the driveway.
"You know Gotham needs him," called Bruce as he drove away. There was that. Batman had in fact stopped many dangerous criminals. And as much as he had created the so-called super-criminals of Gotham because his existence was a challenge to anyone who thought they could take Gotham from him, if was iffy at best if The Dark Knight's fall would put an end to them now that the cat was out of the bag.
Christie had a difficult decision to make.
Batman's perspective:
Even with a car that could do a hundred eighty miles per hour, it still took a while to get from Wayne Manor to Gotham City. It was during this drive that Batman hit Robin with it: "You know how I said that Christie is after me but already has Bruce? Well... she knows we're the same man. And she's guessed who you are, too." "This is bad," realized Robin. "What are we gonna about it?" "There's nothing we can do about it," said Bruce.
"There's gotta be something."
"Has she broken any laws?"
"Not really."
"Is she a threat to Gotham?"
"No."
"Then there's nothing we can do but wait for what she decides. She's promised to tell me and give me an easy way out."
Robin thought. "She's gonna make us burn our costumes?" "If she decides to move against us, probably," figured Batman. "I know you really like her," Robin said sensitively, "But..." Suddenly, rockets fired into the sky. Batman immediately stopped the Batmobile. He lowered the shield of the car so he and Robin could look up.
"I hate to complain," said Robin with reluctance, "but why are we stopping to watch fireworks?" "Because a good detective checks everything," explained Batman. Sure enough, the explosion of the rocket left the signal of a clown face. "Guess Christie's the least of our worries," said Robin. "Right you are," agreed Batman.
They drove towards where the rocket appeared to have originated, only to see and hear explosions everywhere. The bulletproof windshield was shattered and the engine stopped running. If the Batmobile were a normal car, Batman and Robin would have been killed dozens of times over by now.
"Through the windshield," Batman quickly commanded. "What windshield?" asked Robin as they did so. Batman was looking around. "We must have hit a minefield," he reasoned. "No duh," said Robin. Alfred's really gonna love..." "Under the Batmobile," yelled Batman as he spotted a sniper in a tower like those used in 19th century forts. Three shots missed as The Dynamic Duo dived under the Batmobile.
"He's planned this perfectly," said Batman. "I'd rather stop him than admire him," Robin said. Batman nodded. "I'm the one criminals are worried about, so I'll try to draw his fire," he planned. "Twenty seconds into it, you sneak under the tower and tear down the legs with Bat Acid. Don't give me a 'I can't let you do this' speech, young man, because I'm ordering you to."
With that. Batman got out and immediately started running to avoid a shot. The sniper was too far away for Batman to read his body language and from that far away, bullets might build enough momentum and force to pierce body armor. Batman had to rely on instinct alone. This was enough for Batman to dodge the remaining bullets and force the sniper to reload. Robin was halfway to the tower. the sniper had reloaded, but Batman managed to anticipate and avoid three more bullets. Alas, he had maneuvered himself into a fall.
But just as a shot would have found its mark, the tower tipped over because the legs Robin had cut off with the Bat Acid were no longer there. "Noooo," Batman heard The Joker scream. Batman was much less surprised that the sniper turned out to be the mad clown than that he seemed more concerned about missing a chance to destroy The Dark Knight than to save his own life.
Then again, he is a lunatic!
Joker lost his sniper rifle in the fall and it fell a distance away. Batman and Robin stood in front of it as The Joker got out of the fallen tower. "Sorry," said Robin sarcastically. "I forgot to scare the animal of the tree first. I do believe it's a rat." Batman actually managed a slight grin. The Joker, meanwhile, was uncharacteristically angry. "Nobody pranks this prankster and lives, brat," he growled as he squeezed his suit flower to send acid at Robin, which Robin blocked with his cape until the acid totally depleted.
The Joker tried to run, but Batman and Robin caught him soon enough. Some hitting rendered him unconscious. "And all it cost us was the Batmobile," said Robin. "This is going to be a long trip to the police station. Batman pointed to the Joker's car a distance away. "Oh," Robin realized that they could hook the Batmobile to it.
"And we're not taking him to the police," said Batman. "He goes straight to Arkham." "I take it you don't think he could've escaped twice in less than a week without help?" asked Robin. "No, I don't," answered Batman. "I think he has a mole."
Robin's perspective:
Batman and Robin had their man and now they had to find his co-conspirator who kept helping him get out of Arkham. Robin thought that was pretty cool. They were like TV or movie heroes. Adventures that the Dynamic Duo could survive because there wasn't anything they couldn't do! Except keep Bruce's girlfriend from finding out who they were. But movie superheroes had the same problem so it kind of worked out.
They tied up The Joker with Batropes and climbed with him into the office of chief Arkham psychiatrist Joan Leland. "We need to have a word with you," said Batman behind Dr. Leland. swiveling around in her chair, Dr. Leland asked, "I have a door, you know?" "Hi," greeted Robin, trying to loosen her up. "I'm Robin, this is The Batman. We're returning The Joker to you." "I know exactly who you are, young man," said Leland sternly. She had apparently read too much Gothic Report.
"You don't approve of what we do?" asked Robin. "It would be more accurate to say I don't approve of how you do it," Leland made herself clear. "These are not bad people you bring here. They're troubled people who need help." "Hold on," Robin tried to defend himself. "You're..." "Understandable," Batman interjected. "We try not to do any more damage than necessary." "You're no fun," The Joker finally entered this conversation.
"But that's not why we're here," said Batman. "We want to know why this... extremely troubled individual keeps escaping." "I'm truly sorry," apologized Leland. "We have tough security." "It's not that," said Batman. "This is too easy to be mere incompetence." "It could be that he's really good at all the wrong things," offered Leland. "It could also be that he has help on the inside," Batman rejected.
Dr. Leland wasn't happy about that. "We don't help patients escape before they're certified as sane and I resent the implication," said a now angry Leland. "So we're forbidden from investigating this place or even asking questions?" asked Robin. "By all means," allowed Leland. "Ask your questions. You may start with him." She pointed to The Joker. "But he reserves a right to have his doctor present." "Slumber party," laughed Joker.
Batman, Robin, The Joker, and Dr. Harleen Quinnzel, entered a patient interview room. "So what's the deal?" asked Batman. "Who's working for you?" "That's a boring question," said The Joker. "Here's a better one for you. How many people did I kill in between our last two battles? That's a lot of people you could have saved if you'd caught me faster." Robin really wanted to kick him, but he wasn't screwing up this interrogation.
Suddenly, Robin felt something prodding the back of his head.
"Batman..."
"Yes, I feel it in the back of my head, too, Robin."
"I don't suppose that's a ruler?"
"Uh-uh," said Dr. Quinnzel. "You ain't hurtin' my puddin'." "You're making a mistake, Dr. Quinnzel," said Batman. "You can call me Harley Quinn," said the psychiatrist.
Batman and Robin immediately evaded to opposite sides and silenced shots missed both. She took aim at both again, but Batman, seeing that Harley wasn't ambidextrous, seized her left arm and shook out the gun. Harley fought back with a back flipping double kick that knocked Batman backwards and down to a knee. Harley aimed at Robin and shot. Robin had read her well enough to duck the bullet. He heard a scream of pain behind him and a thud.
"Puddin," shouted Harley, dropping her gun, pushing Robin aside and holding a fallen Joker. "Let me see where I gotcha." "You ditz," said The Joker. "I didn't mean it," swore Harley. "Not that," clarified Joker. "You should've shot them first." "You're more important than they are," said Harley, blowing on the wound. "Batman," realized Robin. "I think we should..." But Batman was a step ahead of him, opening the door and yelling, "Medics!"
Batman and Robin were forced to wait in Leland's office. An hour later, she returned. "The Joker's going to make it," she said. "No doubt you're less than overjoyed. I'm never judging anyone again." "What do you mean?" asked Robin. "First," said Batman, "We want to know about Joker and Harley." "As you've no doubt guessed," said Leland, "My... former doctor who now calls herself Harley Quinn was helping him escape. But he wasn't paying her. Ms. Quinnzel did it for love."
"She actually loved that creep?" asked Robin. "Now she's a patient, not a doctor," nodded Leland. "It's ironic. There I was judging you for being too rough and insensitive with the patients when I was creating one of them. I thought young Harley was ready to have a patient of her own. I was wrong."
"You meant well," understood Batman. "To the Batmobile."
Batman and Robin were using The Joker's car to tow the Batmobile back to the Batcave. "How could she love that son of..." Robin stopped, remembering that Batman had told him to watch his language. "...that jerk?" "I actually understand," said Batman. "I know what it's like to look into the eyes of a criminal and see love." There's a good story here," said Robin. "Not tonight," said Batman. "You need to be inactive for the rest of the night so you can sleep as soon as we get home. You've got school in the morning and I expect at least an A- average, remember?"
Robin sighed. Batman had saved himself. But he hadn't heard the last from Robin on this subject.