CHAPTER TWO
"Every tragedy, I've heard, begins simply: some accomplishment that would blind from the knife that would plunge inevitably into the breast, but what if both this tragedy and I wielded blades?"
It was times like these that she praised her late schedule. Harleen's face still showed subtle signs of sleep, but she'd only awoken three hours ago. She'd been up late last night, raking her mind for an answer to the riddles, and then she'd read over her patient's file. It had taken her until four in the morning to finish her tasks and eat.
She was refreshed, though, and that's all that mattered. She stuffed her hands into her pristine, new Arkham lab coat and coaxed a shortened strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, while the rest was clasped behind her head in a messy bun. She wore trace amounts of make-up, the most distinguishing being black eye-liner and her crimson lips.
Once again she endured the stares of her colleagues and the security staff. She laughed silently to herself as she passed through the security check and made her way toward the small, quaint room where she would be meeting with the Joker. In her pocket she stowed a small, silver tape recorder in order to record the sessions, and an egg timer to time them. She'd come prepared, remembering all the cautions that had been written in regards to the man.
The largest and most stressed was the NO SHARP OBJECTS warning. She shook her head and unlocked the door using the key code the front desk had given her. They changed the code every so often so the Joker would not be able to memorize it and escape.
"Well, well," she heard a voice when entered into the door and her head snapped up instantly to stare at the man sitting at the table, hands and feet handcuffed to his chair. "No wonder they restrained me, let me guess, you're a present for me."
To say that she was surprised to see her patient already in there waiting for her was an understatement. She heard the door shut behind her and offered the man a bright smile.
"Unfortunately for you, no, I'm Dr. Quinzel, you're new psychiatrist." She came over to the table as well and sat in front of him. "You're here before me, and here I was thinking that it was customary for the doctor to arrive before the patient in this place, what a shame."
The Joker blinked his dark, brown eyes at her for a moment; he seemed rather confused. And he was. The woman hadn't even shown a bit of fright. He chewed the inside of his cheeks. "You sure you're my doctor?" He leaned forward until his arms vaguely ached in their binds.
"You are the Joker, right? If the answer is no, then the answer to your question would be, yes, I have the wrong man."
He smirked at her and his tongue darted out to wet the corner of his mouth. "I was told that I'm not allowed to call myself 'The Joker', it's against my psychological profile or something like that."
"In the reports I've read of you, it doesn't seem you've listened very well. Hmmm," she rolled her eyes, "Massive aggression- once took a doctor's pen and forced it through his cheek. Three psychiatrists have quit as a result of being unable to handle you, and two have ended up as patients in this very same asylum. Shall I can go on?" She folded her hands on the table and raised a brow at her patient.
He lowly chuckled, "You're my new doc-tor…where'd they find you?" She chose not answer that immediately. She studied the man before her for a moment. He was most definitely the Joker she'd heard of, but without his grease painted mask and faintly green hair—it was back to being its original deep blonde—he looked no different from any other man except for the scars that gave him a permanent Glasgow smile. Yet, Harleen didn't find them especially atrocious; she'd wave them off as war-wounds or something. Medical school had revealed to her disfigurements much more terrifying than the one before her.
"Hey, are you going to answer my question? I really dislike people without manners, you know. Really dislike them." He smacked his lips, a dark glare in his eyes and Harleen had to force herself to center her attention. This session was just to be an introduction to him. Of course he'd ask questions, what didn't she know about him? Well, other than the obvious things he'd not told anyone?
"The Gotham West Psychiatric Complex."
"Have they really gotten desperate enough to go somewhere that small and less accredited to get me a doctor?" He seemed to enjoy the joke he'd made. "But I'll give this to ya, you're composed very well. Bravo…if I had my hands I'd clap for ya, but they don't trust me." He rattled his restraints.
"I requested that, actually. Next session you'll be unrestrained." Joker tilted his head.
"You huh? So you are scared. And here ya almost amazed me, and I'll tell you that would've been something."
"You are the man who refers to himself as the Joker, you ran amuck on Gotham three years ago, and you wouldn't suggest at least some caution with a person like you?" She asked in interest.
"A person like me? What is a person like me?" The Joker posed and took the time while she strung an answer to study her intently.
A petite thing she was, but she had strength in her posture… well confidence at least. Though she had said little, but common phrases, he could tell she was a sharp individual. He knew those types, okay; it was a look in her blue eyes and the way she held herself, but she wasn't of average intelligence. Another trait that caught his attention—oh how unfortunate for her—was that she didn't show any outward signs of being afraid.
"I honestly have no idea what could be used to define to you. I've heard you called a psychopathic, mass murdering, schizophrenic clown with zero empathy, whatsoever."
"Do you believe it?" Joker asked, staring into her eyes. She fought off a quiver of some foreign emotion and shrugged, "I'm not sure what to think, I've not diagnosed you yet, but I am coming to dislike the term 'schizophrenic'. I don't think you suffer from hallucinations, more like a simple disillusionment."
His eyes narrowed, "You talk pretty bold, small as you are. You look like a doll, a fragile little thing I could snap in half." He licked his lips, "I could snap you in half, but you're beautiful, really beautiful…you know I once had a wife that was as pretty as you."
Harleen's mouth pulled slightly to the right in amusement. "Yes, she wanted you to smile more. She also gambled. She got in deep and they carved her up. You guys were poor and didn't have enough money for surgery and she was in so much pain, and well you just wanted to see her smile again, let her know you didn't care about the scars. So you took a razor and did this," she demonstrated with her hands to the sides of her face, "to yourself, and she, she couldn't stand the sight of you. She left and now you see the bright side, you're always smiling. I've heard that story, and the one about your father, and I don't believe a word of either of them."
"So I'm lying?"
Harleen nodded. "Yes, that's the way the arrow's pointing. Two different stories…it's not looking good for your reputation, sir." She crossed her arms.
"You've got spunk, I like that. And despite the sarcasm coming out of your lips, I can think of some other things that I'd love for them to do." His tongue once again snaked out and wet his lips, his eyes dark. Harleen snorted.
"That's a low blow. You think you're going to scare me with lewd comments? I spent five years as a criminal psychiatrist in Gotham's Police department; I've been through the works. Anything you could come up with I've most likely heard before, so get some fresh material if you want to see me blush. I'm very comfortable with myself."
The Joker chuckled. She had lots of fight in her, and he did like that. Unlike most women, in whom he found the trait a little annoying, he enjoyed her moxie. She had a clever tongue, one that seemed able to keep up with him; he'd have to test that theory out sometime.
"A criminal psychiatrist, eh? That's what got you this job and here I thought…" He giggled.
Harleen frowned, "And you call yourself 'ahead of the curve'…and you're assuming what some of my new co-workers are."
The Joker threw his head back, "And bingo, I've found it…Dr. Quinzel's sensitive about her outward morality, especially when it comes to sex. Has someone tried to solicit you? Did daddy get too handsy? What's the doctor hiding under that shrew frown of hers?"
He leaned forward and gazed expectantly into her eyes, which squinted and twitched just slightly. "As a matter of fact, no, but people who know nothing about me decide they can make up what they wish for my life. I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Joker, of all the accusations you could have made, you decide to go with one of the most common responses. That's what irks me, I expected a better answer from you, but ah, you don't do what's expected. Yet, wasn't that an expected rejoinder? Maybe you're more predictable than you let on, hm?"
Oh, she loved to pressed buttons, did she? The Joker glowered at her. Wasn't she suppose to be acting like a psychiatrist, you know, someone who asked the boring questions like 'How does that make you feel?' or 'What does the picture bring to mind, name the first word that pops into your head?' She was different, much different, than his previous shrinks.
"You think you're the first to think they could crack me with unconventional methods?" His eyes were abysses of anger. Harleen could almost imagine him now with the grease-paint, holding a knife gleefully to her throat, but she just stared coolly back at him.
"Yeah," she said simply just to witness his reaction. He began to shake with laughter, disdainful laughter. "You are something else, Doc, no one's ever stared me in the eyes and said that with confidence."
"Well, maybe I see you as nothing, you know? Maybe all you are to me is a challenge, nothing more. Maybe I'm a solipsist and I'm the only real thing in this universe, I just invented you to challenge me." She sounded absurd, even to herself, and she openly laughed. The Joker joined in. She really was something else, something that intrigued him very much.
"I like you, I've never liked anyone. You be sure to come back and see me, Dr. Quinzel, I enjoyed our little conversation."
"Well aren't you lucky, then. I'll be back tomorrow at the same time."
"Oh no, I'm not lucky, I'm blessed to get an angel like you." He smacked his lips as she stood up and prepared to leave the room. She pushed in her chair beneath the black-topped table, a contrast against the white walls of the room. She felt the Joker's eyes on her back as she began to walk away, but went on—well would have went on had her cell-phone not begun to nosily ring.
The Joker cocked an eyebrow as she stopped and pulled it from her pocket. She glanced quickly down at it and hurriedly answered. 'She's allowed to keep her phone on her?'
"Lt. Hawkins, what do you-"
She turned around and stared over the Joker's head at the black television suspended in the corner of the wall near the ceiling. "Yeah, I'm near one."
She rushed over to it and turned it on and began to manually search through the channels.
"There's a what? Sh-The Children's Imagination Network? Yeah…Uh huh, ok, ok, I'll watch it, yeah, I'll call him."
She shut the phone and her fingers stopped on the channel.
"Holy shit," she whispered, "the riddles!"
Then she began to mutter, the Joker could barely make out her gibberish, but she was repeating the clues the letter had stated yesterday.
"Imagination and television! They were going to broadcast on this television channel!" Low and behold the screen was black and resting in the center was a green question mark.
The Joker was thrown, and that was saying something. What was the woman going on about and why was she watching this boring screen? He opened his mouth to say something, but Harleen already had her phone open again and was dialing a number.
"Hello? This is Dr. Quinzel…Commissioner Gordon! I-are you near a television? Yes, well turn it to the Children's Imagination Network…Their broadcasting there. No, they haven't said anything yet. It's the answer to the riddle. Imagination and television. Whoever this crock is they're broadcasting their next move."
Now this caught the Joker's attention. As she shut the phone and stowed it back in her pocket he spoke up once again, "What are we watching this for?" He whispered like it was some secret. Harleen jumped; she'd forgotten where she was. She glanced at him, but if she was going to answer his question she was abruptly interrupted by the television. The voice was gritty and purposely distorted, but its excitement and emotions were easily discerned.
"Boys and girls, police and commoners, and Miss Harleen Quinzel…lend me your ears! Did you figure out my riddle? Congratulations if you did. I see my first checkmate caught your attention, I mean you brought out the big guns, huh, didn't you Commissioner? Dr. Harleen Quinzel…are you listening? I want you to call me. Yes, do call me, my pretty little harlequin. I have a riddle especially for you, doll. But first…what's black, white, and has a dazed smile, and loves to make you laugh? Can you answer Dr. Quinzel? Hope you're not too sore that I found out about you."
Harleen snarled. "It's a jester," she spat, "a clown jester, a harlequin. Ha ha."
"Easy, right? But I had to begin in a place where even the most diminished of minds could comprehend. It's a…HARLEQUIN! Are you a clown, Miss. Quinzel? Will you make me laugh? Why don't you call me, Miss Quinn? I'll give you an hour…I may be as you put it, a planner, but I've planned that if you don't return my call within that allotted time, I'm well, I'm bored, so I decided if I was bored I'd…I know…If you don't call me, I'm going to…"
The screen changed from its solid background and emblem to a dusty room, where in cuffs there lay Lt. Hawkins, blind-folded on the floor, tied-up. Harleen's eyes widened.
"Lieutenant…" Harleen whispered.
"I'm going to dress him up as a cute little jester, shoot him in the head, and hang him on top of Wayne Enterprises tomorrow for the city to see. It's your call, poppet. Talk to me. Here's my number."
Harleen had already pulled her phone from her pocket and was entering the number as it flashed on the screen, bright green.
Harleen turned it on speaker and placed it on the table. She then grabbed her tape recorder, setting it beside the device and hitting record. She leaned with her hands on the surface over the phone as it rang.
Once.
Twice.
"Helllloooo." The voice from the television greeted.
"Here I am, so you going to waste my time or get down to your true purpose? What do you want, Riddler?" She had to restrain her voice from more than a menacing growl.
"Oh, you're quick, I'm glad you decided to listen to Lt. Hawkins…and Riddler, eh? That has a nice ring to it, as does Harley Quinn."
"Nice blow, amateur, as if I haven't heard that joke before. It's quite lame if you ask me." She seethed.
"You've got a temper, there, Harley…but I've got things to do people to please, so I'll not suggest that you get help with that little flaw, I won't tell you how dangerous it can be."
"Yeah," Harleen snorted, "I appreciate it. What. Do. You. Want?"
"You've earned yourself a position in my little game. For now, you're just an annoying pawn, but if you play right, you can quickly raise. I have a riddle for you. You get it right and I'll let Hawkins leave unharmed, you get it wrong and I break a few ribs, no…I won't kill him. I implied I'd set him free if you called me and I will, but I never said in what condition. So are you ready?"
"Who are you talking to?"
Harleen gazed up at the Joker who stared at her phone in curiosity.
The Riddler, or better known to himself and his few friends as Edward Nashton, had gone quiet at the sound of the man's child-like inquisitive voice.
"Who is that?" He barked; he was not pleased with being listened to by a second party.
"Well, Mister, you caught me while I was in session with my patient."
Edward chuckled, "Did I, now? How are you faring with the Joker?"
"She has me hand-cuffed to a chair, but," the Joker purred, "I'm not complaining."
There was silence and then, "You're not making this any better."
"Are you going to whip me again? I do like it when you use the whip." He giggled excitedly and Harleen just sighed. "Riddler, ignore him, I'm doing fine as you can hear. Now, I'm ready, but only on one condition."
"Awww," the Joker whined, "you can't just leave me hanging, c'mon, Doc."
Edward cocked an eyebrow, though it was invisible to anyone else. He took a deep breath. "What's this condition, Harley?"
"How do I know you haven't already harmed or killed Lt. Hawkins?" Ah, he smirked. He walked over to the door of the abandoned apartments he'd relocated to and entered into the room where he held the man hostage. He leaned over the body. "Excuse me, Lieutenant, have I harmed you in way other than knocking you out, tying you up, and blind-folding you? Dr. Quinzel wants to know. Answer honestly, or I might just have to go back on the promise I made to the fine lady, and we certainly don't want that." He placed the phone beside the man, who had stiffened at the sound of his voice. "Tell her!"
"No, Harleen, I'm fine. Please, don't worry about me I'll-"
"See," Edward had swiped the phone and was speaking smugly, "I'm telling the truth, and I intend to be honest to you. So you want my riddle?"
"Yes," Harleen replied, "not that I have any choice in the matter."
"See, you do catch on quick. Okay, here it goes…and Harley, he can't help you."
"The Joker can't help, okay, I got it."
"Good," he walked from the room and back into the one he'd originally been in. He leaned against the wall and stared into the dimness. "Let's see, Ms. Quinn, a riddle for you…hm…Oh, here's one. Jenn picked a book off the highest shelf in her room. On the spine she read "How to Jog". She ran out of the room and opened the book but found it had absolutely nothing to do with jogging. What was the book about?"
"That's the riddle?" Her voice was a little off, strained when she answered a few minutes later.
"What, too random for you?"
"No," she chuckled, "too easy, but you're going to play this nicely. You asked that I solve your riddle and you'd let Lt. Hawkins go unhurt, no re-dos. You'll keep your word. The answer is the book is an encyclopedia containing the letters HOW through JOG. Checkmate, monsieur." Her voice was too smug for his tastes. He growled. "What did I ruin your plan?" She laughed quietly and Edward could hear the muffled chuckles of the Joker as well.
"You were fortunate, Harley, very fortunate." He sputtered in anger and snapped his fingers.
Three men walked into the room. They were your normal, hired thugs with ski masks. Edward covered the phone.
"Take Lt. Hawkins and leave him on the Northside bridge." He ordered and when they didn't seem to be moving fast enough he screeched, "GET GOING!" They rushed from the room, aware that their boss was not happy at all.
"Alright, Ms. Quinn, you win this little round, but you may not be so lucky next time," he spoke icily after he had ripped his hand from the mouth-piece. "You want Lt. Hawkins, you can have him. He'll be on the Northside Bridge in twenty minutes. I trust you know where that is."
"I know where it is," Harleen stated, her voice still odd, but Edward was too enraged to question.
"I hope you're enjoying my game, my little puppet. It'll only get better, and better. Who knows what the stakes will be next time. You still willing to bet?"
"Shut up, you bastard," she declared tiredly, "you're already making mistakes. You know so much about what my role is in your investigation, so you must have been present last night to hear my debriefing, now all I'll need to do is find out who was in the station that night as witnesses. Then it'll be a piece of cake to find you. I thought I was going to have a challenge, but I'm sadly mistaken, even the Joker's got a better reputation than you."
Edward snorted, "Oh, and yet he's the one in prison."
"Oh, isn't he just scary," he heard the Joker mutter.
"You won't be too far behind him, Riddler. I'll find out who you are and then you're going to spill about your motive." Harley promised darkly.
"Motive? Who says I have a motive?" He laughed. It was wiped away by his quarry's next statement.
"I do. You're a schemer, and the thing about schemers is they always have an ulterior motive for their actions, so don't feed me any bullshit about 'what motive?' So want to tell what it is now, or shall we play another game?"
"You are far too bold, doctor, you're gambling unwisely."
"Thanks for the comment, even if it was rather useless. You need anything else or can I go and fetch your hostage now?"
"You watch that smart little mouth, or-"
"Or what, you'll make me smile permanently? Please, don't try to be a Joker replica, you're already boring me with your sorry attempt to get my attention…You're becoming droll and I've not even met you, yet…Pity."
"Harley Quinn, one day that sharp tongue of yours will be your undoing, but all that you spout is words, words that make me laugh. Will you continue to make me laugh, doll?"
"Yeah," Harleen twittered in tart enthusiasm, "I'll make sure you go with a side-splitting smile."
"You do that, poppet, you do that. Until our next chat, adieu."
He shut the phone and squeezed his fist tightly. How dare that little bitch! He glared down at the phone he was attempting to crush and threw it to the floor. He began to stomp on it furiously, imagining it was that doctor's hands or perhaps her unmarred face. She would rule the day she back-talked him like she was more superior. She was a puppet, a new wood carved piece in his game and that was it.
He chuckled, a strange sound. She was just a puppet, there was no need to get too upset yet. She hadn't ruined any of his plans. He'd actually been hoping she'd figure out the riddle. Oh, but the next one he gave it would take her a while. Already plans were moving through his head. He had a date for his appearance already named mentally. What jolly fun he'd have…He'd show that damned woman who was a challenge, who reigned supreme, just like he'd show Bruce Wayne and the mayor for repeatedly refusing to fund his research into the human psyche, the tests it would take to prove that the human mind could be copied into nothing more than data. He'd show them all—the bullies, and the high and mighty who laughed at his ideas who was smarter.
He ran a soothing hand through his shoulder-length locks and grabbed his emerald fedora hat from the floor and placed it on his head. He left the shattered remains of his cell phone on the floor; he'd get another one tomorrow. It was a puppet phone besides.
"You're not funny," Harleen stated coldly to the Joker as she replaced her tape recorder in her pocket. "This wasn't some fun game. That man could have died because of me." She couldn't believe she'd desperately blurted that out, and to the Joker no less. The man grinned, the action made more ghastly by his scars.
"You were scared," the Joker accused in-between roaring laughter, "out of everything that could have frightened ya, you were scared of them." Harleen glared at him.
"If looks could kill, babe, I'd be dead, but I like that angry scowl, makes you look sexier."
Harleen turned away, grabbing her phone from the table-top and stuffing back into her pockets with more force than was necessary. "I'm hurt, you know," she ignored the Joker and stomped to the T.V. and turned it off, "I'm certainly scarier than the Riddler, and you have no problem with me."
"You're not out on the streets tormenting people anymore." She replied harshly, but his words hit her as a stunning realization. The guy before her was random, chaotic and the one she was just dealing with was nothing of the sort. They could be predictable if she just set her mind to it, focused enough.
"Okay, whatever you say," he sing-songed. She frowned and began to leave, she still had to go pick-up Lt. Hawkins and get him to the hospital.
"You're nasty," she called back, knowing it was childish.
"What, you still sore about me licking your hand when you decided to cover my mouth to stop me from helping you? I wouldn't have, you know…they just wanted you to answer."
"Yeah uh-huh, but I have a feeling you would have spoken just out of spite whether or not it was to help."
"Oh," the Joker sighed, closing his eyes, "you know you liked it, I certainly did. You," his voice dropped an octave and became huskier, "tasted very sweet."
She didn't dare look back at him, she just strolled from the room.
"Bye, Dr. Harley Quinn, see ya tomorrow."
The door shut and he smirked. He wouldn't have helped her solve the riddle, her precaution was endearing though. No, he realized how much of a game this truly was. It was a contest he wasn't a part of yet. He had a feeling he would be soon, though. He'd wait then, he did have patience if nothing else. His dark eyes swept over to the door leading out.
He couldn't wait to see her pretty blue eyes again, hear her barbed words. He leaned back in the chair and waited for security to come get him. Harleen Quinzel…a puppet with her own strings, how exciting. His own personal jester…