I don't know why, but I feel like in this chapter, things start to take on a slightly more creepy and unnerving feel...Maybe it's just the way I imagined this chapter in my mind... Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter Five, First Blood
Somehow, despite the events of the past day or so, Harleen managed to sleep for a solid eight hours. When she woke, she showered and ironed her work uniform. A new day, coupled with a decent amount of sleep and a new perspective had left her much calmer.
And much more strong-minded. Harleen had been soundly defeated by the Joker, she accepted that. However, she'd come out in one piece (more or less), and this time, she was determined to get back in the ring and start dealing her own blows. She knew she probably couldn't defeat the man (she honestly wondered if anyone could), but she thought that maybe; she could at least force them into an even footing. It seemed a reasonable enough hope, even if it wasn't strictly possible.
What she'd do after that wasn't exactly clear, but hers was a long term enough goal that Harleen was comfortable with her lack of extensive planning. She figured she'd probably end up making it up as she went anyway. She'd already learnt the hard way that it was useless trying to scheme and make plans where the Joker was concerned. All that came from them was seeing the Joker's malicious delight in tearing your plans apart and then maybe you as well. Harleen guessed that at the moment, the best she could do was go in today with a general idea of what she was doing and do her best not to end up repeating yesterday's mini-meltdown.
As she ironed her uniform, Harleen realised she was humming under her breath. After a further three seconds, she recognised it as 'Hard Days Night', by the Beatles. She stopped and frowned, wondering why that particular song had occurred to her. Normally, Harleen hated all sixties music; it reminded her entirely too much of her psychotic mother, who'd played such music non-stop and had been unkind enough to give her the name 'Harleen', a permanent burden to bear.
Feeling the usual resentment mixed with grudging adoration for her mother, Harleen sighed and put her freshly ironed uniform on. She hated putting it on so soon after ironing it; she hated the overly warm and clinging sensation of the scrubs against her skin. There was no other choice though, not unless she wanted to wait for the clothing to cool down, and miss her desired early arrival at Arkham. It seemed such a stupid reason to miss the opportunity to catch the Joker unawares. Harleen was certain he wouldn't be expecting her to return so soon, if at all.
But then, Harleen had always taken great joy in proving people wrong.
As much as she had expected it, it was still an annoyance to be summoned to Doctor Vahns' office. Harleen had harboured the unrealistic hope that she would be able to creep through the halls to her office, and from there to see the Joker, without being brought in. As she'd known from the beginning, absurd.
"You asked to see me, sir?" She tried to sound innocently perplexed, as if she hadn't the faintest idea as to why her mentor would be so insistent on an audience with her.
As far as ploys went, it was pitiful. Vahns gave her a look that quite obviously showed his incredulity she would even stoop so low as to attempt so pathetic a ruse.
"Yes I did, and you know perfectly well why. At least, you should."
Harleen chewed her bottom lip, considering her options for a moment. She could continue to lie her way through this meeting and hope for the best. It was, shamefully enough, an enticing option. Harleen knew she had a talent for untruths, for acting. However, this wasn't her brother or one of her very few friends she was lying to, it was one of Gotham's best psychoanalytical minds, trained to spot lies.
Harleen gave a faint, disgruntled sort of sigh.
'Oh God, I may as well just let him have his ego trip…'
"Yes sir," she said, not quite able to work all of the unwillingness out of her voice, "I suppose I do. My, um, interview with the Joker."
There was a brief pause after that. Harleen took advantage of it, realising how awkward retelling all of this was going to be. She wanted badly to say 'yesterday', or 'last night', but she couldn't. It'd been today technically, just quite a few hours previously.
"Yes, that's it." Doctor Vahns nodded. "I just wanted to raise a few points with you."
"What's there to 'raise'?" Harleen demanded, the sudden fear that her authorization to work with the Joker would be revoked, "We discussed this before; I'm better able for being exposed to him now."
"I know that!" Vahns snapped defensively, not liking the flash of temper from Harleen. It reminded him of a feral dog, standing with its hackles raised whilst it growled it's ownership over a slab of meat. "I just wanted to reiterate the need for caution; He's been unpleasant in the last few hours. Well, more so then usual anyway."
"Is he under increased security?"
"No." Vahns was clearly unhappy about that. "For one thing, we're short staffed. The flu is doing its rounds through staff again; we're down three orderlies and two doctors. Secondly, the Joker's decided to relieve his boredom by playing a new, rather annoying game."
"That is?" Harleen asked, surprised by the intensity of her curiosity. Vahns pressed his lips together in grim irritation and shot her a pointed look.
"He says he refuses to speak to anyone but you now," he said, making his belief that the Joker was falsely informed of Harleen's importance obvious, "And that if he doesn't see you at least once a day, he will harm either staff or himself. God knows why he's doing this, but he is."
Harleen stared at her mentor in silent horror, her heart catching in her throat.
'The bastard! He knows how hard it is to remain sane and rational in his presence; he's doing this to see how long it takes me to snap!'
"Obviously, you don't have to conform to his demands," Vahns went on, not noticing his trainee's suddenly pallid expression, "In fact, I'd rather it if you didn't; the amount of hours that such a commitment would generate would mean I'd be forced to stretch the budget even thinner to accommodate your new role…"
Well, that set Harleen off.
"And say I did wish to undertake this assignment?" She demanded immediately, inwardly horrified she was even considering doing such a foolish thing.
"Well, as I just said, I'd be forced to stretch the budget." Vahns replied, grinding his teeth angrily. "So I'll take that as a 'yes' then?"
Harleen gave a falsely bright and innocent smile.
"I'll see the Joker in Room Three today."
Vahns gave her a decidedly sour look by way of response.
'Screw him!' Harleen thought savagely, as she sat at the cold, metal table waiting for the Joker, 'The Joker's my case, the best fucking one I've ever had, and he wants to take it off me?! Screw him!'
Just then, Harleen heard the door behind her buzz open and the sound of footsteps, so she quickly wiped the anger and defensiveness from her expression. After a few moments, the Joker materialised before her. She stayed silent, watching the orderlies place the deranged man in his restraints. Harleen couldn't help but giggle when she saw the extra attention they paid to his handcuffs this time. Typical, someone had to actually be put into danger before people started worrying about it.
At the sound of her laughter, the Joker looked up sharply. For a split second, polite disbelief furrowed his brow, as if he couldn't quite comprehend the humour of the situation. Then, he too gave a small giggle, face suddenly split by a wide smile. The two of them sat opposite one another, sharing a brief, bizarre moment of camaraderie. The orderlies glanced uneasily between the pair, quite obviously perturbed by the bond. There was nothing to be done about it however, they quickly left the room.
As the door swung shut behind the orderlies however, silence once more engulfed the room and the hilarity and closeness faded. The smiles remained, but only for the purpose for concealing the hostility and calculating that both had in their arsenal of metaphoric weapons.
"Surprised to see me again?" Harleen inquired politely, with a subtle bite to her tone. The Joker seemed to delight in her newly found courage and ferociousness.
"Nope." He seemed to smack his lips on the last syllable. His smile grew as he allowed an uncertain quiet to prosper briefly. Harleen raised her brows quizzically at him, proud that she found the silence intriguing rather then fearsome.
"I'm, uh, I'm a hard man to surprise." The Joker explained, earnest except for the derisively amused grin plastered over his face. "Mildly upset maybe, but uh, not surprise."
"I see." Harleen muttered, ego deflating a little. So far, her courage wasn't having quite the effect she'd hoped for; the Joker still seemed completely at ease and more importantly, in control.
"Sooo," The Joker playfully batted his eyes at her, "How'd you sleep, miss Harrrrley Quinn?"
Harleen swallowed, feeling the Joker's words strike her like blows straight to the gut.
"Don't call me that."
"Call you what?" The Joker's expression was a terrible facsimile of innocent confusion. "Harley Quinn?"
"Yes!" Harleen only just stopped herself from snapping out the word. "That! Please don't call me that."
"But that's who you are, Harl'," The Joker said sweetly, "Whether or not you like it."
"Fine." Harleen bit back the frustrated snarl in her voice. She knew that at this point, fighting was going to achieve nothing. "But only if we agree on a quid pro quo. If you're going to call me something different, then I get to choose a price."
The Joker narrowed his eyes.
"What makes you think I'll agree to that?"
"Because," Harleen said slowly, not believing what she was about to do, "If you don't, I'll leave now and not come back."
There was a long, tense silence in which both of them stayed very still, taken aback by the threat. Harleen kept her eyes pinned on the Joker, heart thumping painfully. Hers was a dangerous venture; if the Joker called her bluff, she would destroy any further chances she had of getting any information at all from him. Harleen was gambling on the hopes that the Joker wanted her more then he'd given hint to so far. If not, he would simply laugh and let her walk out of the room without so much as a single word.
'Come on,' Harleen silently pleaded, 'Say something… Say anything you son of a bitch!'
Suddenly, the Joker stirred. A furious expression flitted across his face, but it was wiped away before Harleen quite had the opportunity to gauge its depths. The Joker replaced his anger with a carefully neutral sort of frown and that was when Harleen suddenly knew she'd won this particular battle. The realisation lent her an almost overwhelming elation; she only just managed not to let the smugness show on her face. To do so would almost certainly reverse what she'd just achieved.
"See, this is why I think I like you more then Batsy." The Joker said, his voice light and amused. Harleen saw the dark fury in his eyes though. "You know how to play the game properly. He never knows how, he always thinks that he can win through brute force alone."
Harleen didn't reply to that remark, determined to remain on track.
"So, you'll agree to my system then? For every demand you make of me, I do the same?"
"It depends on the demand in question, doesn't it?"
Harleen released a sigh of pent-up frustration.
"Fine, if that's what it takes you to cooperate…"
"Cooperate?" The Joker laughed suddenly, "I'm not cooperating! I'm, uh, I'm merely relieving my boredom. You're awfully entertaining after all."
Harleen ground her teeth, angry at how she didn't seem to be getting anywhere with the Joker. She took a moment briefly to rein her temper in before deciding that maybe Batman technique of brute force might actually come in handy here, in a manner of speaking.
"Okay, forget my name;" she said bluntly, "I want to know why you're refusing to speak to anyone but me."
"Because," The Joker drew the word out, "I can see a little resemblance of me in you."
"What?" Harleen asked, shrinking back in disgust, "I don't think so! I don't kill people, I don't…I'm not the one sitting in a padded cell in Arkham!"
The Joker laughed at her expression of horror, delighted by her defensiveness.
"But you could," he pointed out, between giggles, "That's just it; you haven't done these things, but you could."
Harleen suddenly realised that she was shaking from fear. She could feel her heart racing in her chest.
"You see," The Joker was thoughtful now, dark brown eyes losing some of their malevolent gleam and gaining an indecipherable depth, "You have chaos in you. Trust me, I know. I'm good at seeing these, uh, these sorts of things. You have the ability to be just like me in you Harley, and it's not as far beneath your surface as you'd like to think."
Harleen ignored the immediate stab of pain that the name 'Harley' brought and fought her fear, her misery and anger back under control.
"So you're playing with me then?" She queried, managing to sound impressively detached, like the psychoanalyst she was supposed to be "To see what it takes to make me get in touch with my…my 'bad side', as it were?"
"Yep."
"It won't work." Harleen replied immediately, wondering why it felt like she reassuring herself more then the Joker, "It just won't. You may be right about me having the potential to be like you, but that doesn't mean I will. I'm perfectly capable of self-control, unlike you."
"Mhm," The Joker sounded like he was merely humouring her now, "That's what they all say. Now, tell me Harl', are you feeling the pressure of keeping me locked up yet?"
"No." Harleen responded politely, glad at least this part was true. "And I don't expect I will. I'd like to think I'm too rational a person to suddenly develop the urge to unleash a mass killing psychopath on the city."
"You'd like to think." The Joker repeated, amused by that statement for some reason. "Sure."
There was another pause, but it was different this time. It was always different with the Joker, Harleen had found. She supposed it stopped him from becoming boring at least. It was about the only good thing she could say about him, apart from the fact that he at least didn't seem to lie to her very much, if at all.
"Why'd you kill Doctor Stevens?" She asked suddenly, as she wondered how long the police would be in her apartment.
The Joker frowned playfully.
"Technically, he killed himself. It's not very nice to accuse me of things I didn't do."
Harleen grimaced, realising how precise and thoughtful you had to be to get any answers from this man.
"Alright, why did you manipulate him into killing himself in my apartment?"
"He deserved it." The Joker replied shortly. "Apparently, according to him, I hate people and that's why I kill them."
That one got Harleen. She heard the hurt and indignation in the Joker's voice, and somehow knew it was genuine. How very interesting.
"And that's not the case?" She asked, slightly disbelieving.
The Joker gave her an annoyed glare.
"No, it's not. I actually don't hate people, no matter what labels like 'sociopath' you toss at me. I, uh, I just like seeing people squirm more then I like seeing them happy. That doesn't necessarily mean I hate all people though."
Harleen said nothing, partly from incredulity, partly because she didn't know how to react to such a statement anyway.
"It's like…" The Joker stopped a moment to consider his words. "Like an author, right? They create their pet character, their storybook baby. So, if they're a good writer, they don't just sit there nurturing them. Nope, they send them into bad situation after bad situation, to see how they react. That's what I do, I love people… society, whatever. Sooo, I like thinking up nice little life and death scenarios to see how they…to see what they do."
Harleen saw one small flaw in that logic. At the back of her mind, it struck her as ethically wrong she didn't see more.
"Yes, but an author owns their character, it's theirs, so they have the right to do what they want."
The Joker tutted, as if he were dealing with a slow child who didn't quite grasp the idea he was explaining.
"You think Gotham isn't mine?"
Harleen nodded, secretly intrigued by this glimpse into the Joker's mind.
"Well, you're wrong." The Joker said flatly. "Gotham belongs to someone, it always does. It, uh, it used to be Batman, but then, I came along. I might be in here now, but if I were to get out and issue a, uh, a proclamation that Gotham was mine once more, I can tell you now, Harley, that it would be. No one would be able to stop me."
Harleen felt sick, shaken to her very core. There was no doubt or amusement in the Joker's voice now. Even his usual smile, present even in his misery (whatever that may be), was gone. There was nothing but cold, cruel certainty in the man's voice.
"W-what about Batman?" She whispered, suddenly desperate to know there was something, someone, who could fight the Joker. Surely the man wasn't totally invincible?
"Oh, he might try." The Joker allowed, thinking about it, "It'd be interesting…But, Gotham's turned its back on Batsy… Not very fair actually, as he didn't do anything to deserve that."
"What?" Harleen was angry now, remembering the news footage of Batman's disgrace, "He killed Harvey Dent!"
"Did he?" The Joker smirked now; obviously smug that he had a secret to bring to bear against Gotham as a whole, "Now doesn't that strike you as terribly illogical, hmm? He doesn't kill me, his ultimate nemesis, but he kills Dent, his white knight chum…"
That did strike Harleen as odd. She paused, uncertain how to progress along that train of thought. She turned back to the Joker, meaning to ask for more. He saw her questioning expression though and shook his head.
"Much as I like you Harley," he giggled, "I'm not giving that little…that little joke up yet. I'm going to need it, later on."
Harleen didn't pay too much attention to the second part of that statement, too surprised by the first half. A mistake as it happened.
"You should probably go home." The Joker said suddenly, "I'm getting bored. I get violent when I'm bored."
Harleen glared.
"I'm not finished!" She snapped, angered by how such a productive session was suddenly ended, "I'm not going-"
Then, to Harleen's absolute shock and terror, the Joker leapt to his feet. The restraints that should have kept his legs pinioned clattered to the ground, useless. Harleen gave a scream and backed away quickly as the Joker lunged towards her, a crazy grin on his face. He didn't need his paints to terrorise; all it took was a smile.
Harleen darted for the door, but the Joker was faster. Before she was even halfway there, he's blocked her path. Obviously enjoying himself, the Joker quickly pushed both the table and chairs up against the door. His strength scared Harleen; she knew that the table was solid steel and designed to be extraordinarily heavy, to stop things exactly like this from happening.
"N-no!" Harleen stuttered, backing away further as the Joker turned back to her, "I'll g-go…I just…"
The Joker laughed. It seemed so unfair that even in handcuffs, he was still unstoppable.
"Now now Harl' darlin', lets be rational. I gave you the chance to do as I asked, and you ignored me. That wasn't polite, and I was polite to you…until now of course, but this is only fair."
Harleen whimpered and tried to think through the blur of terror that had engulfed her mind. As the Joker drew closer, she instinctively lashed out at him. The Joker caught her fist easily and before Harleen had the chance to scream again, the Joker had his arms around her, simultaneously pinning her arms to her side and squeezing her throat painfully.
"You're being annoying Harley." he grunted, seemingly not even noticing the fact that she was putting every bit of her strength into trying to get free. She was terrified by how useless her efforts were, by how his face was pressed against hers. "I'm merely teaching you something here. It's not even a, uh, hard lesson…I just need your attention. Do I have it?"
Harleen whimpered and nodded as best as she could, considering the Joker was practically strangling her. He smiled.
"Good." He said. "Now here's the thing…You're a schemer, don't deny it."
Harleen hadn't been intending to do anything of the sort, but she nodded again regardless. Satisfied, the Joker continued.
"You know I make a habit of messing with schemers… Look what happened last time. Anyway, here's the thing… You seem to think you can win here. You can't; you either play my game, my way, or not at all and I'm telling you now, if you don't play my game…"
The Joker paused, noticing the pale, nauseous expression on Harleen's face. He grinned wider, almost reassuringly.
"Well, it's up to you, but I don't recommend that course of action."
"Please…" Harleen tried not to whimper, she knew it only incited the Joker further. "Let me go."
The Joker looked at her appraisingly, an odd, unfathomable expression in his eyes and face.
"Just like Carla." He murmured, suddenly paying Harleen no attention.
Taking advantage of this lapse, Harleen squirmed just enough that she was able to produce a pen from her pocket. Acting out of fear and adrenalin, she tried to stab the Joker with the pen. Unfortunately, the only part of him she could reach was his shoulder. Whilst the pen was doubtlessly painful embedded there, it was hardly incapacitating.
"Sneaky." The Joker noted, thoughtlessly pulling the pen from his flesh. He pushed Harleen away roughly, eyeing her anew. "Not nice though."
"You wouldn't let me go!" Harleen wondered why she was begging for forgiveness from this man. "I had to!"
Just then, Harleen realised there was pounding and scraping at the door. There had been for a few minutes now, she'd just been too distracted to notice. Guards on the other side had pushed the obstacles of the chairs and table far enough from the door that they were able to train their weapons through the gap. They kept a close aim on the Joker.
"It's ok!" Harleen called in a panic, fearing how the Joker would react if he felt cornered, "Everything's fine! The situation's…under control!"
"Of course it is." The Joker mocked spitefully, standing against the opposite wall, putting his hand up to where he bled slightly, causing a dark, damp patch to appear on his Asylum provided shirt. He held his hand up for Harleen to see after a moment or two, letting her see the blood that covered his fingers. "Completely under control."
Harleen felt sick, like she was getting the flu. Her stomach twisted painfully at the sight of her tormentor's blood and pain and she trembled from the fear that he would retaliate. She moved over to where the guards were breaking through the door. She could hear a drill; they seemed to have tired of pushing against the table and had decided to just remove the door from its hinges altogether.
"You made me do it." She whispered, trying not to cry suddenly. She hated how the bastard always destroyed her, left her in tears. It wasn't fair! Harleen was so strong normally, she hadn't even cried at her father's funeral. Now she was reduced to this… "I didn't want to, but you wouldn't let go of me!"
The Joker didn't reply, choosing to stay where he was as the door suddenly fell back and two guards bounded in, weapons at the ready. Harleen turned to them quickly, grateful to avoid the dark, brooding rage that was building in the Joker's eyes.
"It's ok," She said hurriedly, before they tried to do anything, "I caused this…He didn't do anything."
The guards were long time employees of Arkham Asylum; they knew both the Joker and Harleen Quinzel. So, they knew that neither of them would willingly lie in this regard.
"Alright," the senior one, an ex-police officer nodded, "But I think that's enough for today, don't you?"
"Yes." Harleen said quietly, like a frightened child. As she walked out of the room, accompanied by one the guards (the other stayed behind to watch the Joker), she cast one last look over her shoulder at the Joker. He smiled nastily and slowly, deliberately put his bloodied hand up to his lips and drew it across his mouth. The effect was grotesque, a horrible imitation of his normal lipstick. Harleen shuddered and turned away.
With every step away from the Joker, Harleen's anger grew. The whole thing had been a disaster, and one that could have been avoided! For starters, the Joker should not have been able to get out of his leg restraints! Harleen suddenly stopped in her tracks; turning to the guard she walked with.
"I need to talk to Director Banks," she told the man, "Now."
Women were rare in Arkham Asylum. Whilst they often did make highly skilled and intuitive Doctors, working in the Asylum also presented a dangerous environment physically speaking, the likes of which was often too intimidating or difficult for female staff to cope with. So, Harleen's presence in the Asylum was a near-first. One that Director Banks was very supportive of, as it turned out. Harleen had had no idea, having never had reason to meet the Director before.
"You're Harleen Quinzel, right?" He was surprisingly young; most of the senior staff such as him were in their fifties at least. Banks however looked to be in his mid-thirties, if that. He was fairly attractive too, with hazel eyes and light brown hair.
"Yes." Harleen blinked; a little taken-in by the way he simply exuded charisma and charm. Banks smiled blindingly, making her sure that his teeth had been seen to by a skilled orthodontist at some point.
"Hello then. What can I do for you?"
Harleen grimaced.
"Quite a bit. I just had a session with the Joker."
Something flickered into life in Banks' eyes. Unease perhaps.
"Yes?"
Harleen felt her anger trickle back into her system.
"He got out of his restraints. This is the second time this has happened! It's unacceptable, I could have been killed! I know that by working here, I was always going to face physical threats, especially as I'm female and not as strong, but this is ridiculous! The orderlies are meant to prevent this sort of thing."
Director Banks seemed to be equally upset by this, if his angry scowl was anything to go by.
"You're right," he muttered, "This is ridiculous. I'll have a word with the guys in question. Are you alright for now though?"
"I think so." Harleen sighed, "But you might want to send a medic or something to the Joker… I sort of stabbed him with a pen."
Banks' brows shot up.
"Should I even ask?"
"Probably not." Harleen said tiredly. There was long pause before something occurred to Harleen. "Do we know any of his previous contacts?"
Banks shrugged.
"I can't remember off the top of my head. You should take his file out and have a read…Your clearance is enough for that now. Why do you ask?"
"He mentioned someone named Carla." Harleen said, remembering the sudden distance in the Joker's expression as he'd mentioned the name, "The name's familiar for some reason…"
"Go over the file." Banks repeated, suddenly getting to his feet, "And report back to me. I have to go do something now. Take the rest of today off, the Joker said he only expects you once a day, that gives you time to eat and sleep and go over his file."
Harleen nodded, as if considering what good advice she was being given. Truthfully though, she intended to only follow one part of it.
Arkham Asylum was an enormous building. So, it was possible to store patient files onsite, in the huge, musty room known as Archives. Harleen was only able to find the Joker's file so quickly because one of the aides was able to lead her to it directly.
Completely unsurprisingly, the Joker's file was enormous. So big in fact, an entire filing briefcase was needed to contain the pounds upon pounds of paper. Harleen nearly fell off the stool she was standing on to reach the briefcase because of the weight. Staggering, she just managed to climb down and dump her trophy on a nearby table. Feeling suddenly ill at ease, she opened the case.
The first thing she looked at was the folder titled 'Initial Report'. This was just a brief anecdote really, given within hours of the patient being admitted to the Asylum.
'Subject refuses to give any name or other alias beyond 'Joker'. Resisted removal of costume paints aggressively, leaving one female nurse in tears and another orderly with a fatal laceration to the throat (subject had not yet been searched and therefore was able to conceal weaponry). Appears hysterical, laughing endlessly and apparently without control. Is extremely unpredictable and dangerous, seemingly switching between rage and amusement without warning. Subject has already shown symptoms of schizophrenia and severe psychopathy (aggressive behaviour, pathological lying, lack of empathy and remorse). Administration of sedatives recommended.'
Harleen shivered, and not just from the cold. She'd never been told that the Joker had killed Arkham staff. Maybe it was something Doctor Stevens had previously tried to keep concealed? Shaking her head slowly, Harleen turned to the next report. It had the title 'Preliminary Psychological Assessment'.
'Subject underwent the first of a system of psychological assessments today. In this case, subject went through Hare's Psychopathy Checklist-Revised (PCL-R). Subject scored high on both Factors One and Two, indicating psychopathy as opposed to mere Anti-Social Disorder. Plan of treatment has been modified accordingly.'
Well, no surprises there. Harleen knew the Joker was psychopathic; it didn't take a genius to figure that out. As interesting (and frightening) as all this was, it wasn't what Harleen was searching for. She resumed digging through the folders and loose piles of papers and reports. Another caught her eye. It was untitled and incomplete.
'-Has shown substantial levels of resistance to sedatives and anti-psychotics. Subject has also demonstrated almost abnormal strength and agility. Has thus far proven to be an extremely difficult patient to keep under control. Some new hopes of restraint have been given with the substantial donation towards a new cell, provided by Wayne Enterprises.'
Harleen frowned. Wayne Enterprises was enormous and branched into many different areas, but it still perplexed her that it was involved with the Asylum, and more specifically, the Joker. Tossing the confusing article aside, she finally found what she'd been searching for: the basic patient profile.
Name: As yet unknown.
Aliases: 'The Joker'
Age: 34 yrs
Race: Caucasian/White
Sex: Male
Height: 5 foot eleven inches
Weight: 163 pounds
Security Status: Max-Sec (Maximum Security)
Main disorders: Psychopathic/Sado-masochism/Paranoid Schizophrenia/Possible Sociopathy
Supervising Therapist/s: Doctor Stevens (overseen by Director Banks)
Brief History: Was arrested by vigilante Batman (see separate file) after mass attacks on Gotham City and its citizens. Found to be responsible for the murders of Rachel Dawes, Gillian B. Loeb (former police commissioner) and Judge Surillo. Also found to be responsible for the attempted murder of Gotham DA, Harvey Dent (now deceased/see Batman file), James Gordon (current police commissioner). Strong connections have been found between subject and past, previously unsolved crimes (see police file on the 'Mariwck Case').
Known contacts: Outside of his band of 'henchmen' (known commonly as 'the clowns'), the subject has proven to be elusive to track in terms of past contacts. At this point, the only contact known is Carla Bertrepp (deceased/see file).
"There!" Harleen breathed, seeing the name 'Carla'. Ignoring her surprise at the Joker's age (he was far younger then she'd imagined), she quickly tore through the briefcase, searching frantically for the file titled the same. Then, to her surprise and secret pride, she found a copy of her own entry report. Idly, she flicked through it. Then, it hit her, where she'd seen the name 'Carla' before. Right here, in her own handwriting.
"Oh God..." Harleen said quietly, suddenly remembering. "Carla…"
Carla Bertrepp was thought to have been the Joker's first kill. Whilst nothing certain had been found (the police suspected the Joker himself had destroyed a lot of evidence), it was strongly held that Carla had attended college with the Joker, and that the two of them had formed a bond of sorts (there was no evidence to either confirm nor deny anything of a romantic nature). However, it seemed that the Joker was a bad influence and a criminal even then, because a string of robberies and muggings erupted on the college grounds.
Here, things became even more indistinct. The working theory that the police were using was that Carla had come forward to turn her friend, the Joker, in as the culprit along with a band of other students who supposedly had formed a sort of 'gang' around him (the precursors of The Clowns? Harleen wondered). However, the Joker disappeared as did Carla, before any arrests or investigations could be undergone. Three months later, Carla's body was found in a landfill. Supposedly, the word 'Ha' was carved into her chest, although later examination found the lacerations in question were very much open to interpretation.
And what had the Joker said to Harleen? She thought about it.
"Just like Carla."
Harleen gasped as the full significance of this statement hit her. Whilst it could have simply meant that she reminded the Joker of some aspects of his old friend, the words could have also had a far more sinister meaning.
That is, if the Joker had killed Carla and had meant his words referring to her to apply to Harleen…
Well, it almost certainly meant that the Joker wanted to kill Harleen Quinzel.
-Cue dramatic music- Mwoohaha! Anyone else wanna bet that poor Harl' has got a sleepless night coming to her? Anyway, I have a few questions for you...
1) Does this chapter remind you of any song? Does the entire story?
2)Should Harley find out the truth about Carla Bertrepp herself, or should the Joker tell her?
Anywho, I has to run now darlings! Love, hugs and maybe drugs!
TTFN from vampassassin
