Batman actually took a moment to stare, trying to make some sense of the scene around him. He was strapped to a rather comfortable leather couch, in the attic of an old, rotting building, without his utility belt, and with Harley Quinn making herself comfortable in a chair facing him. The simple absurdity of the whole thing took a moment to set in.
"So let's get started." Harley adjusted her glasses, and shifted a couple of papers on the clipboard. "I'm gonna start with a few questions, okay?"
"No."
"Too bad! Question one. Would you say you're sane, or insane?"
Batman stared at her coldly.
"Come on, Batty, answer the question," came the voice of the Joker, from where he stood against the wall behind Harley. He pulled a joy buzzer out of his pocket, and tossed it into the air a few times. "If you don't, we might just have to try shock therapy!"
"So Question one," Harley repeated, "Would you say you're sane, or insane?"
"Sane," Batman growled.
Harley tsked, and made a note on her clipboard. "They aaalways say that. Question two, do you prefer scrambled eggs, or unscrambled?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Harley folded her arms. "Doctor J? The patient is being very non-cooperative."
Joker stepped forward with his buzzer, grinning wildly. "I've wanted to do this for years!" He sprang forward, and pressed the buzzer right under Batman's jaw. Batman clenched his teeth, but didn't scream.
"I'm gonna ask you again," said Harley, "Scrambled or not?"
The look on Batman's face suggested that he wanted nothing better than to whack her with the clipboard.
"Huh, still no answer. Whadda we do now, Dr. J?"
"Hmm, is that lovely little medicine that you gave our birdie still around?"
"Sure is!" she hopped up, and retrieved an injection needle from the pocket of her lab coat.
In the corner, Robin's eyes widened. He worked even more quickly on his bonds, until they finally dropped to the floor. He didn't get up though—not just yet.
Harley tested the needle, and walked over toward Robin. Batman could only watch; the straps holding him to the couch were tight, and too thick to cut quickly.
Just as Harley was within striking distance, Robin sprang to his feet, pushing off the wall and aiming a kick at Harley's head. She leapt out of the way just in time, bouncing around the room. "Uh-oh! Bad birdie!" Robin kept a good stance, but the first dose of the drug was still in his system. He was groggy, slower than usual. Harley finally succeeded in catching a punch, and jabbing the needle into Robin's arm.
Batman's fists were still clenched. He ground his teeth as he watched Robin sway, still trying to stay on his guard. But Robin was still only human. Within a few minutes, he had collapsed.
The Joker walked over to Harley, who was replacing the needle in her pocket. She held out her arms, expecting praise, but received a smack instead.
"I told you to tie his ropes TIGHTLY! That's the second time!"
"Ah! I'm sorry, Mr. J!"
The Joker raised his hand to hit her again, but looked back over at Batman and lowered it. "Oh, what this must look like. It must be bad for the patient to see the doctors fight!" Adopting a sappy smile, he extended his hand again, this time to help Harley up. She took it, instantly forgetting the smack. "Well, Doctor Harley? Are you going to get back to your patient now?"
"Right, Doctor J!" Harley hopped over to her chair and adjusted her glasses. "Now, moving on." Harley flipped through the papers on her clipboard, "I'm gonna show you some inkblots, and yer gonna tell me what you see, m'kay?"
Batman remained silent. Harley took it for a yes.
"Whadda ya see here?" She asked, holding up a paper.
Still he said nothing.
The Joker was not pleased. "If you won't play along..." he said, giggling as he lifted the unconscious Robin up from the ground and drew a finger across his neck.
Clenching his fists, Batman studied the paper. "A bird," he decided.
Harley made a buzzer-like noise. "Wrong! It's a fighter plane!"
"You at least attempted to study psychology, Quinn. You know a Rorschach test is subjective. It can't be wrong."
"Who's the doctor here, huh?" Harley asked, pointing at him with her pen. "Try another. Here, what's this one?" She held up another paper.
"A skyscraper," he answered, after a long, tense moment.
"Wrong again! This ain't lookin' good for you, Mr. Batman. Why dontcha try another?" Harley pulled a third sheet off her clipboard.
"That's you and the Joker on your honeymoon," Batman said, suppressing a smirk at the Joker's expense.
"What? No it—Oh, I guess it is." Harley looked nervously at the Joker, who had folded his arms and begun to tap his foot. "Ahehe, wonder how that got in there." She hastily folded up her doodle, and put it in a pocket. "I think that's enough inkblots for today." She reached into another pocket, and grabbed a list. "Now let's try some word association. I'm gonna say a word, and you tell me whatever you think of, m'kay?"
Silence. A glare.
"Okie-dokie! Ahem. Cat."
"Dog," Batman growled. A part of him still did not believe that he had been put into such a ridiculous situation. A much smarter part of him was surreptitiously using a batarang to begin cutting through the thick bonds.
"mHMMMM," Harley said, making a note and a tsking noise. "Fruit."
"Bat."
Harley laughed. "Ooh, that was a good one. Wrong, but good. Okay, potato."
"Food."
"You just got no imageenashun, do ya?" Batman didn't even bother to answer. The sharp wing of his Batarang was already halfway through the first strip. "Humph. Well, let's try another. Slinky."
"What? I—"
"Tut Tut, Batsy, you ain't doing well here!" Harley said, making another note on her clipboard. "Flake."
"I don't know, fake," Batman said, trying to keep up the illusion that he wasn't distracted.
"One more. Magnamanous."
Batman wasn't interested enough to look up. "That's not even a real word."
"A'course it is! My Puddin' uses it all the time," Harley protested, folding her arms."
"Then what does it mean?" He asked, with the slightest of smirks.
"Just answer the question! Magnamanous!"
"I don't have time for this." The first strap snapped open, the batarang jolting forward without the resistance and hitting Batman's arm. He let on no sign, and ignored the cut as he started to work on the other strap.
"Wrong answer, Batman," came the voice of the Joker from behind Harley's chair. The zany laughter that usually came with it was gone, replaced with a calm insanity. He was still holding Robin up with one hand. He reached the other out to grab one of several guns laid out in a decorative manner on the ground. Holding it up, he started to press the barrel against Robin's head.
Batman stopped his work for a split second. His fists had clenched too tightly in fear to continue cutting the bonds. But the moment passed.
Suddenly, The Joker lowered the gun, and the unconscious boy. He looked at the ceiling, contemplating something, before breaking out in a wide grin. "Dr. Harley, what do you think of our patient?"
Harley scribbled again on her paper. "He's out of it, Doctor J!"
"Then I think it's high time we began our treatment, isn't it?"
"You betcha, Puddin'!"
The Joker's smile widened even more, stretching straight from one ear to the other. "Now it's going to get fun…"
