Pamela dropped into a metal chair, bolted to the floor and across from Dr. Strange.
"Ah Ms. Isley, good to see you again," he greeted.
"Sorry I can't say the same," she glared at him.
"Remove her restraints please," the doctor said to the guard.
The orderly did as he was told and quietly exited the room.
"So," began Pamela, "What do want?" she crossed her newly freed arms.
"Ms. Quinzel tells me you two have met,"
"And?"
The doctor thought for a moment, "How do I put this... Ms. Quinzel quite possibly holds information that is extremely valuable to me. But after working with her I've found her mental state to be very fragile. Due to her circumstance her trust is low and I-"
"What do you want Strange," interrupted Pamela.
"I want you to talk to Ms. Quinzel. Nothing in particular just get her to talk and you listen, then each night you will report to me," the doctor explained.
Pamela raised an eyebrow, "Why would I help you,"
"Because I can reward you, Ms. Isley,"
"How?"
"With your freedom," answered Strange.
Pamela merely rolled her eyes, "What good would that do to me. My reputation is ruined, mostly because of you," she said with disgust, "What's waiting for me outside of Arkham? Nothing,"
"I cannot help you in that area I'm afraid. All I can do is declare you sane and allow you to go," Strange replied patiently, "I don't ask much of you Ms. Isley,"
Pamela stroked her long red ponytail in thought, pondering whether or not she should give Hugo Strange the satisfaction of her task. After a few minutes she finally replied, "Alright,"
Later that day, only a few hours after her 'meeting' with Dr. Strange, Pamela sat in the rec room. Strange had assigned her to recreation time with Harley to increase their time together. To say the least, Pam was not thrilled, as if breakfast, lunch and dinner was not enough to be around the pathetic clown girl. Not that she socialized with her, just being in the same room was irritating. But she supposed it would be worth it to be out of the asylum... what she would do from there she was unsure.
Pamela Isley searched the room from her seat on a lumpy arm chair. Amidst the group of deranged women she could not see Harley.
It had been some time since she really looked at these people, her fellow patients. The last time she had was a few months ago when she came to this place. Pamela distinctly remembered her first rec room experience. It had been a scary one. She recalled sitting in this very chair, at the back of the room as far away from the prisoners as she could get. She was not like them; she was by no means one of them.
Pamela hands were literally shaking that first day. The group before her was nothing like the misfit, quirky and mentally afflicted bunch of girls on Girl Interrupted. The mental part was the only common ground they shared. The women of Arkham Asylum were criminally insane. They had committed horrible crimes to end up here. And to top it all off, every one of them looked the part.
There were not nearly as many females in Arkham Asylum as there were male prisoners. But that made it worse. It proved to a frightened Pamela Isley that only the really bad cases of insanity in women were sent away to the asylum. So why was she sent there?
Pamela quickly distracted herself from the memory. All those fears had passed anyway within a month in Arkham. She was of course well aware of her 'neighbors' acts of brutal murder, torture and in the case of one women she knew of; cannibalism. But she was no longer terrified. She learned to adapt and do her best to keep to herself. At least until that Harley Quinn showed up.
Pam was unsure of what it was that bothered her so much about Harleen Quinzel, or simply Harley, as she insisted on being called. Maybe it was her relationship with the Joker. Pamela hated seeing news coverage on the two and having to watch security tapes and clips from police cameras of the clowns, however short. Harley would fawn over him, staring with adoration and love as he carelessly played with her hair like she was some kind of doll instead of a person. Maybe it was knowing that Harley let Joker abuse her as Pam watched those tapes. Maybe it was Harley's blatant stupidity, after all, everyone knew the Joker and yet she thought he could love her. And maybe Pamela Isley hated Harley because there was something so familiar in the scarred girl's story.
Just then Harley walked through the rec room doors. Karen the nurse, once again by her side.
"Go sit down Harley," she heard the nurse say.
Harley nodded weakly and searched for a seat.
Pamela sighed, knowing this was going to be a long day, "Harley," she called half heartedly, "Come sit with me," the words unbelievable to even her own ears.
For a few moments Harley paused, simply staring at Pam like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of whether to go forward or just run away.
"Go on," Karen said before exiting the room.
Slowly, Harley came over. She sunk into a chair beside Pamela.
"The stitches are gone I see," Pam said noticing the pale scars on Harley's cheeks.
She nodded.
"And the cast too,"
Another small nod.
"So I haven't seen you in the cafeteria in a while. Where have you been?"
"Sedated," Harley's voice was quiet, she stared down at the floor.
Pamela asked a few more uncomfortable questions that she did not care to know the answers to. Harley always responded with a nod or a shoulder shrug, speaking as little as possible and avoiding Pamela's eyes.
"Damn it Harley," the red head finally groaned, "What is wrong with you?"
Another shrug of her narrow shoulders.
"Can you even look at me while I'm talking to you? It makes me feel like you've got something to hide," Pam complained, "For all I know you've got a fork in your pocket and any second you're going to take it to my neck," she rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, frustrated, "Heard your boyfriend pulled that trick the other week," she said nonchalantly.
"My boyfriend?" Harley spoke up.
"Glad to see I got your attention; you said two words. Good for you,"
"What do you mean... my boyfriend?"
"The Joker, or what do you call him... Mr. J," the red head rolled her eyes again in disgust, "He stabbed a guard in the neck... oh, I don't know when,"
"He's here? In, in Arkham?" Harley was looking at Pam now.
Her blue eyes wide, scarred mouth agape in anticipation for Pamela's response.
"Yes,"
Harley's voice shrank into nothing but a feeble squeak.
"You didn't know that," Pam said sitting up and facing her.
"Oh my God," Harley finally uttered, "Oh shit, shit, shit,"
"Calm down Harley,"
"I'm spose ta be dead," her voice escalated, "Do you have any idea what he'll do ta me if he gets a holda me in here! Oh, fuck, I can't breathe!"
"Yes you can Harley, if you can talk you can breathe," Pamela failed to assure her, "Nurse," she called over to the nurse's station for help, remaining surprisingly calm.
"You don't get it. You don't get it Pamela!" she cried, "The Joker... he'll be so mad," she panted, probably hyperventilating.
"He can't get you Harley," she looked back toward the nurses, "Hey nurse. Somebody,"
Harley was petrified. The thought of the Joker being on the streets of Gotham was frightening enough, now knowing that they were in the same building was truly a terrifying prospect. Harley knew that her clown boyfriend had intended to kill her. If he knew that he was not successful... she did not want to think about it.
Pamela did her best to calm down the visibly shaking girl before her. But assuring Harley that Joker was locked safely away from her did not go far. Harley of all people knew that he was more than capable of escaping.
As fear rose inside her and all the thoughts of what could happen to her, Harley's whimpers rose to panicked screams.
"Help, we need help over here!" Pam yelled towards the nurses who finally noticed the commotion.
One of the two nurses began to call guards on a walkie-talkie while the other grabbed a syringe of clear liquid.
The nurse with the sedatives rushed across the room, gave the syringe a quick flick and hastily injected it into Harley's right arm. Thankfully she had been too panicked to protest or even notice what was happening for that matter.
In seconds Harley was limp in her chair. Her eye's half-lidded and rolling back into their sockets, just in time for a few guards to come take her back to her cell.
"Did you hear he got out last night?" a guard asked his fellow employee.
"Everybody's heard, two nurses and three guards dead; it's all over Arkham,"
"It's all over Gotham, reporters are practically pitching tents outside the gates," the guard scoffed, he glanced into the Joker's cell.
Joker sat towards the back of his cell, resting against the wall in a stiff straight jacket. Orderlies had hurried to confine him inside it shortly after discovering he had been out of his cell, as if it could do any good.
The thing Joker found hilarious was the fact that he had not been caught out of the cell. He slipped out of his cage, spent part of the night in Dr. Strange's office and entered his cell once again. It was not until the next shift of guards 'reported for duty' in the morning that anyone noticed the sedated employees or the mess in Joker's cell.
Of course everyone was all bent out of shape since Joker murdered five people; three on purpose the other two were accidental, a result of to much sedative in the wrong places. There was talk all over Arkham Asylum of employees quitting after the latest Joker scare. There was always a risk when working with these criminally insane prisoners, but there was no one like the Joker. Dr. Strange was a wreck trying to convince his workers to stay; though he did his best not to show it. But despite his efforts, more guards, nurses and even a doctor or two were resigning.
"I'm thinking about quitin'," the other one said after a few moments.
"Really?" his younger companion asked with some surprise in his voice.
"Yeah. I mean, I know I need this job, what with the economy being the way it is... but I just don't think it's worth it. Not with all the guards he's taken out,"
Being in his mid-twenties, the other guard could not understand this, since in his own eyes he was almost invincible, "Well," he looked back to the clown, "I'm not scared. In here, he's got nothing. No weapons, no explosive, no crazy-ass henchmen,"
"He's killed three guards... no four, remember? The other week," the more realistic guard reminded.
"Luck," was the other orderly's response, "Or something like that. I mean, Look at 'im," he gestured towards the Joker, "He may be all scary with his make up and knives but in Arkham... naw. Here he's just a scarred up punk," explained the guard before turning towards Joker, "You hearin' me punk?"
"Don't piss him off," ordered the older guard, who was of course ignored.
"Huh?"
Joker nodded, "I here ya," he popped his lips after quickly licking them, "Wanna know something? The guards like you are the easiest to kill," he scrunched up his face in an expression of mocked disgust.
"You threatening me?"
"Nooo, just making conversation. As I was saying, the guards like you are easiest to kill... do you uh, wanna know whhhyyy?"
"Why," the guard smirked, humoring the patient.
"Cuz you're cocky and angry. But don't feel bad, most of the guards here are... I think Dr. Strange like's it like that. You make him seem smarter,"
"Let's go," grumbled the older guard who was once again ignored.
Joker struggled to his feet, "Yeah, ya don't need to be smart to do your job and Strange highers the dumbest of the dumb," he smirked, now right in front of the glass which separated the three.
"I am not stupid," the guard glared.
"Oooh defensive, have I struck a nerve? But of course you're stupiiiid," Joker licked his left scar swiftly up and down, "If you were smart you wouldn't bull shit in front of my cell, no. If you were smart you would know that I could get out and shove that pen in your pocket half way up your nose. Or, or maybe I could just blow your head off with the revolver under my pillow,"
The guard's anger turned to confusion for a moment, "You don't have a revolver," he said, slight skepticism in his voice.
"Don't IIII? How do you know where I went last night? Hm? After all no one knew I was misplaced until this morning?"
The guard simply looked puzzled.
Joker smiled at this, looking from one guard to the other, "Ya see gentlemen, that's the most immm-por-tant part of the game. The poker face. You can't tell whether I'm bluffing or not... sooo will you take the chance and search my cell?"
"NO, I'm leaving," the more cautious guard threw his hands up in frustration and left.
Joker licked his lips, "And what about you?" he asked the young guard, "Are you gonna be a hero... or are you just not willing to risk it, to uh, possibly sacrifice yourself? Hm?"
The Joker's mind games were precise without being planned. He had only known this man for five minutes and yet somehow had him figured out. He hit his ego where it hurt, questioned his intelligence and then his honor. Joker could not help but smile and even suppress a giggle, he was sure he had him. The clown's only regret was that such a wonderfully crafted game was being wasted on this particular lummox of a guard.
He licked his lips with anticipation. His head tipped slightly downward with his dark eyes staring into the guard's, challenging him. Joker did not think of what he would do to the man once he entered the cell, which he was sure he would. It was too soon to decide. Besides that the clown would rather savor the moment, he reveled in the adrenaline rush that came before the kill.
The guard opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short. Then he rolled his eyes and stormed off.
"Wait, where ya going?" Joker did his best not to stumble over his words, despite his surprise, "So, so you're a coward huh? That's it. Isn't it? Gonna let people die cuz you're scared to come in here. Well, thanks ta you the next pretty little nurse that comes by to give me meds is gettin' face full of led," he called pressing up against the glass as much as he could to watch for a reaction from the guard.
He stopped walking once, but continued on his way and making the Joker even more angry.
"Anybody I kill- it's, it's gonna be your fault now!" he yelled though by now the guard was to far away to hear him.
Joker growled and kicked the glass. He did not really have a gun; either the guard knew it or he just did not care. Joker hoped it was the latter. At least that way he could be satisfied with the fact that he was right about human nature. But he had a feeling the guard was simply calling his bluff.
In addition to the disappointment of a very unsuccessful hunt; the Joker still had matters to attend to with Jonathan Crane.
Thankfully for him the guard situation and the Jonathan one had no correlation. It would be just as easy for the Joker to escape his cell and pay the good doctor a visit now as it would have been if he'd killed that guard.
Despite having his cell cleaned after the deaths of Rob and Cheryl; the Joker managed to hang onto one key card and that's all he would need.
I was like a fanfiction writing zombie during this one, as well as the next chapter. I stayed up all night and then into the next morning typing two chapters... why i dunno. I'm writing this author's note later because it will probably make more sense this way. Sorry to im-batman (proof reader of pure win) if this makes little sense, it was five in the morning.
Anyway, finally another Harley part. I hadn't realized how little I was using her. I had not planned on such a large Pamela Isley part but in my trance of fanworks I thought it was a good idea to give a tiny glimpe into her back story... very tiny.
Oh and I'm not dissing Girl Interrupted or anything. Its actually one of my favorite movies. But as I was writing the scene where Pam is looking at the other inmates I imagined that they were kind of a scary crowd. I did not want the image of Winona Rider in reader's minds.
