CHAPTER ELEVEN

"I would forever reminisce upon this. It was the beginning to my end; my drowning by fire, but it was also a new beginning; everything burns, but only a lucky few can rise from the ashes, reborn."

To whoever happens to read this, I hope you don't look down on me. I'll be the first to agree with you that I may require a psychological evaluation, but let me first lay out my case and confession.

There are people who enter your life and despite all rational warning you find yourself drawn to them like a moth to the light of a flame. Helplessly you are attracted. I am a victim to this disease. I shouldn't like him, be attracted, or await with the most devouring excitement our next meeting.

This sounds like a trashy romance novel doesn't it? I sound like I cannot help, but suffer beneath the curse of my sex, unable to be the master of my own desires. Now whether or not that last sentence is true and I am weak, my situation is far from what you, a normal person, would declare romantic or endearing in anyway. You'll most likely be scared for me, or be angry with, or—most despised of all—pity me.

My name is Harleen Marie Quinzel, I'm a psychiatrist at Arkham Ayslum in Gotham City, New York, and I have a huge problem. I am currently 28 years old and deeply and hopelessly in love with my psychiatric patient. That in of itself is terrible, huh? But trust me it's even more complicated than that. Aren't I a picture?

My patient in question goes by the alias "The Joker". So, there you have it. If you live around Gotham –or even the same continent as I– you know who I'm talking about, if not you'll soon find out and you'll get why I believe you'll think me nuts—if you don't already think that. And yes, I repeat, I love him. There is no way to explain myself, I can't even explain it to me. I'm not one for excuses at the moment, so there's no rationalizing this confession as the ravings of a lonely woman, for I never thought of myself that way, and I doubt this attraction is borne of the craving for attention (I have plenty of that thank you). I'm just a guilty woman whose crime is attraction, mostly likely a fatal one if a sane train of thought is to be followed, but as I re-read that I don't agree that that is even rational in this case.

This is no excuse, so don't misjudge me, it is a mere statement for my own insight, but I have no idea why I love the Joker. If I did, I'd honestly admit it, stand on the Wayne Building and scream my confession to the heavens, but I have nothing, zilch, nada, zip. Nothing rational explains to me why I feel like this. I muse sardonically saying love is not rational—thanks, I'm glad to know that now!

The Joker...he has no motives and to the best that I can possibily predict(note this word for later reference) I am his toy. He flusters me, angers me, harasses me, and flirts and attempts to make a move on me. He gets a genuine kick out of my reactions and enjoys every minute of it. And I think he's aware that I secretly have come to enjoy it as well, every taunt and heated, lustful phrase. You would call me naïve and tell me that am I nothing but entertainment for this man and as soon as I bore him he will dispose of me in some way or another, but I disagree. The hesitant side of my mind may agree with you, but I've seen a Joker no one else has known.

The Joker who would mercilessly blow up a hospital stares back at me during our sessions, but not with a gaze picking me apart maliciously. He is civil if not lecherous and flirtatious. He has never harmed me, and there is much more. I know the truth behind the scars, but death could not cause me to repeat what I have been told unless he himself gives permission.

I am his of my own will, not because I was threatened, and if you ever meet a person who knew me deeply, of which I have at least one, they can tell you that this letter is truth, written by a sane mind, at least in my opinion. I love the Joker, no question. I am writing this letter in order to convince myself, and no longer deny it, but I cannot reveal it.

I continue to tell myself that I am a sane person, and though I am quite sure of my attraction, I do take into account factors. The Joker is dark and mysterious, a mass murderer, maybe I'm just caught up in dazzle, and there are perhaps many other reasons. Some women are obsessed with the notion that they can change a man; demon to angel is a popular underlying fantasy, but I have no delusions that I can change this man. Indeed it seems he has changed me, further evidence that this love, if it truly be that, is irrational and unexplainable to me. But I want to remember this, whether to laugh upon it as fancy or solemnly regard it as an ultimate truth.

I will continue to treat him, however, until I am sure that my attraction without question clouds my judgment. After that moment I will take it day-by-day. I am not a planner; inspiration hits me as it comes.

I hope you understand, reader. I am in love, can do nothing about it, and am content that way. Come what may, I declare.

-Harleen Quinzel."Innocent," the Joker laughed, "you think dear, little Brian was innocent?"

Harleen crossed her legs beneath the table and nodded, "Yes, despite him being a means of bringing out Batman what else was there?"

"That was it. Harley, you see it's like war. Some innocents have to die, it's the price that's paid. Brian was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I may have spared his life had he not fought back so much. Then I had an epiphany: I could get Bat's attention with him. Now, I didn't want to kill him, but it was necessary. You know very well that dead men tell no tales and make for a better message besides. That's all."

"That's all?!" Harleen did not want to understand this logic, no matter how much sense it made. No, and it incensed her a little. "Well," she said simply, "that certainly fits your profile. So you questioned him, recording the whole thing, and then off camera you murdered him?"

"Murder is such a cruel word, Dr. Quinn, makes it sound illegal," he giggled. Harleen rolled her eyes. "Murder is illegal."

"That man, I respected that he had an ideal; that he stood up for what he believed in, but he wasn't Batman. He should have quit while he was ahead. Had he not interrupted me whilst I was meeting with my boys, the confrontation would never have started. And if he had run when he—you know, I have don't have an explanation. He really just showed up. If he had taken advice and not dressed up like the Bat, then the situation could have been avoided and I wouldn't have killed him to send a message. I mean, I don't have to kill someone for a message, but with him, it was necessary. It got Batman's attention, even if he didn't reveal himself."

"So it was all for a message?"

"It was a strong one." He nodded.

Harleen shook her head, "That's childish."

The Joker grinned. "And you aren't?"

Harleen stiffened. The Joker smirked and lowered his head. "You know the man I am, and yet you question what I do?"

"I do so because I'm your doctor and it is my duty to understand you, or at least attempt to." She answered simpering, glaring at him. "Well, do ya, Doc? Do you understand?"

'Yes,' her mind whispered, but she shook her head, "No, I don't."

"You lie and I don't like lying."

'Well what do you want me to do?!' She screamed internally in fury, but she merely sniffed. "How unfortunate, too bad. Now there was another televised incident. Mike Engel, you took him hostage shortly after the incident at Gotham General."

"Fine, I'll appease you," Joker smiled overly sweet and twiddled his thumbs atop the table. "Mike Engel was merely a hostage. He was the perfect subject to announce my plan to play all of Gotham in a game. As you know, I didn't kill him, so see, that proves the point that death isn't always the best way to rely a message." Harleen pointed at him, "But fear is."

"Hypocrite," the Joker sang and waggled a finger at her, "you do understand. See, lying."

She pointedly ignored him. "So both were to instill fear, further break the citizens of Gotham in order to set up the next ramming of their psyches. You are sick."

"No, just ahead of the curve. Don't talk as if you're one of the citizens that label me crazy," he spat the last word. "You may want to be, but you're not. You get it, but like I keep telling you, you feel ashamed because your starting to see the cracks of society. I'm not trying to push you, you know. If you continue to deny your own beliefs the fall will only be harder. Just because you admit you understand my thinking, doesn't mean your going to dress up in a purple suit, wield a knife, and start blowing up buildings. No one can change Harleen Quinzel unless she accepts it just like no one can change me."

"And I'm the one in denial?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"You're the one who keeps asking me questions, skirting around the subject. What do you really want to ask, because this act," he waved his hand at her, "is a bad joke. Something is crawling beneath the surface. What is it?"

"I'm not the one here to be analyzed," she leaned back calmly and ran a hand through her hair.

"You're changing, Harley. I remember months ago," yes she had been working with him for months now. It was now October 31st, and she had managed to keep him compliant with questions such as these. She had asked many things, ones that were not conversational but not prying either. "You would be fiery, yes, but you snap back at me almost calmly now. I should be hurt, you should be afraid."

"And perhaps I would be if you tried to harm me instead of attempting to seduce me." She smirked. The Joker broke into laughter. "Bold, so bold. Ah, but you're right, but there's not much else to do. You'd not make a message for me, sure Bats would come, but I just don't think I could enjoy torturing you in any other way than for you to be begging me to take you." He licked his lips, clearly enjoying that though.

She spoke into her tape recorder, a habit she had picked up because it was interesting to see his reactions to her verbal notes—she'd not tell him that, though. "Patient still fantasizes about having sex with me." The Joker raised a brow at that and grinned licentiously, "Sex? No, no, Harley, none of that. I don't just want to deflower you, I want to make love to you. I want you to enjoy it."

A lump had formed in her throat. Oh boy.

"Does the fact that I want the woman to derive just as much pleasure as me still surprise you? Or maybe," he leaned over the table and stared at her conspiratorially, "does it get you fighting a flush in your cheeks imagining me holding you while I take you higher and higher into ecstasy?"

She flushed at that, but glared into his eyes, bringing her face closer to his. Their noses were almost touching. "No, it makes me wonder how you tell me these lies or half-truths. You're the Joker, there is no way that you," she paused and then her mind shut down its censoring. "There's no way you can be that attracted to me!"

"Oh," he whispered, "why not?"

"I'm a doctor, and besides that, it makes no sense!" She sputtered. He brought a hand to her cheek, "Pish posh, ethics...Morals, you're not going to have any fun that way, but if you were to pursue such a relationship, you could just quit being my psychiatrist. Besides do you see me caring?" He caressed her soft skin, and though she tensed, she didn't move. "Quit?"

He smiled and nodded, "I'm not going to push you remember? You can keep your ethics and rules. Tell me, baby, why do I not care? Any other person I would enjoy twisting, but not you, never you. Is it because you are doing what I cannot, being an counterforce legally? Is it because you're pretty? Why do I not want to change you?"

She gulped, his face was coming closer to hers. "Love is-isn't rational...it's," she shut her eyes and her fingers dug into her palms. She wanted this, but was now the time? She opened her eyes and-

"Dr. Quinzel." The intercom turned on and the moment was ruined.

The Joker glowered and leered at the infernal device attached to the wall as he pulled away angrily. Harleen appeared calm, absolutely relieved actually, but her lips had the slightest quirk in them as if she was smiling in amusement at him. She pushed back from the table and stood up.

"It's amusing in your case, Joker." She grabbed her tape recorder as she made her way to the intercom, thankful for her inhibition that they had been interrupted, though she wouldn't deny a slight disappointment. "Subject also seems to believe he is genuinely infatuated." She pressed the button on the intercom. "This is Dr. Quinzel."

"Finally, what took you so long?" A quipping voice replied.

Harleen grinned, "Pam, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I was in the neighborhood and I happen to have your Halloween make-up and other such goodies, so I thought I could take a quick detour and bring them to ya."

"Yeah, sure, I'll meet you outside my session room."

"Good, see ya soon, Harls!"

Harleen glanced over at the Joker, "Be right back."

Her wait wasn't long, minutes later Pam was standing in front of her with a brown paper bag and a pair of black boots in her hands. She removed herself from leaning on the wall.

"I got the goods," Pam waved the bag and shoes with a furtive smile. "Black and white grease paint, black lipstick, I also got you some black and red fingernail polish, and of course red shoe laces. And your boots that you left at my house."

"How much do I owe you?"

"No, you're not going to pay me back. Keep your money, it's fine," she waved her hand. "You got everything else, right?"

Harley nodded, "Yeah. Thanks for the supplies, I just put it off till the last minute. I didn't cause you to have to take a day off did I?"

"No, I don't have a class until three, and I doubt that many will come. College students plus Halloween equals one crazy night. Drinking, arson, what have you. Well, I just wanted to come by and give you those. I'll see tonight, want me to get a driver, in case?"

Harleen shook her head and hugged the woman, "No, we can call a cab if worse comes to worst. Thanks."

Pam smiled and when she was released from the embrace she handed Harley her burden. "I wish I could live as sporadically as you. Harley, we need to be careful, Halloween is the perfect time for the Riddler to try something big after his long silence. It would be dramatic."

Harleen nodded, "He said he was planning something big in his last message. But that was it. He had a riddle, but it's been figured out. He's kidnapped Elisa Ranger and broken her. He's got an accomplice now. I'll be careful, no worries."

Pam sighed, "But I am worried, this Riddler has been causing you to act a little different lately, and I'm just worried about the end result." Harleen laughed, "It's an act, Pam, I'm fine, but he'll fall. He's bound to. He's messing up, and now that we know he's kidnapped a woman, he may be easier to find if she's seen."

"You're right, I suppose. See you tonight, Harls." And with a smile Pam left.

Harleen stared after her a moment. "There's no need to worry, I like this change." She muttered and then entered the session room again. She placed her boots by her chair and sat the bag on the tabletop.

"Halloween make-up?" The Joker questioned, curiously, his attention obviously piqued. Harleen nodded and began pulling out the items one at a time.

"White facepaint, red shoe laces, red fingernail polish, black facepaint, a domino mask—cute—black nail polish, and black lipstick. Everything's here." She nodded and picked up the lipstick. She unscrewed it and brought it up to her lips, dabbing it on. "Is it dark?" she asked the Joker, nonchalantly.

"Why are you doing that in the middle of our session?"

"Do you have any ideas that would be productive to me and my job?"

He grinned, "Well-" She cleared her throat and glowered at him in slight annoyance. "It's dark." He reached over and grabbed the vial of white greasepaint. "This is the kind that I buy. Brings back memories it does." He waved it in the air. Harleen stood up and leaned over the table to retrieve it. "I can't let you put that on, there might not be enough for me if I do, and besides it's against protocol to let you to wear it."

"You want it? Then I want something in return."

Her hand was clutched over the container, but it was clear he wasn't going to give it up easily after she pulled on it once. She sighed and leaned till her lips were close to his ear. "Okay, then," she turned her head and kissed him soundly on the cheek, making her own sound effects as she did so, leaving a nice lipstick mark as she pulled away slightly.

He released the paint and she pulled it from his hands and sat it back in the bag, smiling, trying to hold back laughter as she saw the mark on his cheek.

She had kissed him. Yes, it was overly exaggerated, but it meant she was definitely fine with physical contact with him. He smiled charmingly. "Geez, Harley, who knew you cared? But, uh, puddin', you missed." He reached forward and pulled her head down towards his, his fingers tangling in her loose hair as he kissed her fully on the lips. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and gave it a playful nip, not enough to break the skin, but her moan didn't escape his attention as he pulled back.

"There, now," he sighed, "that's better."

He loved her shock, and the clear emotions in her eyes. She was fighting kissing him again. She wouldn't, not yet, but he tensed in anticipation, nonetheless, in case she broke this mold. She would eventually, but he laughed as his cheek suddenly stung.

"I think it's about time Dr. Arkham knew about this. Maybe he'll switch me to someone more cooperative," she whispered vehemently, but he shook his head. She wouldn't leave, it was an empty threat. "C'mon, Doc, it was just one little kiss. I didn't french ya. I'm being gentle, besides you liked it too. That groan back there wasn't one of fear or dissatisfaction. What's a little nip? If you really want retribution, I won't be against you repaying the bite."

She muttered lowly, and sat back down gathering the contents of the bag and replacing them. Had he known that it took all her will to make that growl? Maybe she should quit being his psychiatrist. Maybe she could request visitor visiting hours with him. If anyone could pull strings to get that it was her. She didn't want to hide it anymore, but she had to act, even as she knew he didn't buy it. Couldn't he see that as long as she was his doctor she couldn't let herself reciprocate his feelings? There were cameras and passers-by to consider as well.

If she quit the case and told the truth there would a psychiatric evaluation, but she could handle that.

She stood up, "I'm ending our session a little early today. I need to go and get ready for tonight's Halloween celebration with Pam." No, she just wanted out to think.

Her blonde hair was sodden and pulled back tightly behind her as she dug through one of her drawers, clad in only a navy blue towel. Around her, on her vanity her make-up was set up and an outfit was laid out on the bed, an ensemble of red and black.

The stereo she had in the floor beside her window was blaring with music.

"With a thousand lies
And a good disguise
Hit 'em right between the eyes
Hit 'em right between the eyes
When you walk away
Nothing more to say
See the lightning in your eyes
See 'em running for their lives..."

She refused to think anymore upon the happenings at the Asylum. Now was not the time to ruminate on that. She was going to go out with Pam, dress up, to party until she passed out. Period; that was it. Tomorrow was another day, and Saturday besides. She could think then. Now it was time for fun.

She hummed along with the song as she pulled out a pair of undergarments and let her towel fall.

She looked interesting to say the least as she pulled on black, red-lined blazer that had been constructed to end at the beginning of her torso. Her eyes stared into the full length mirror on the back of her door as she lightly tapped one of her chaotic pigtails, teased and sprayed.

A ditzy cheerleader that was hit with a punk rock cannon, that's what she looked like, decked in a pair of jeans that traded being crimson at her thigh on one leg to ebony on the other and the same below the knees. She wouldn't look "normal" for long, but before she took anymore liberties making herself up, she grabbed her black boots and sat down at her vanity pulling them on and tying the red laces in; done with that she turned and smiled at herself in her vanity mirror and her hands enclosed on the white greasepaint.

She was finishing applying her lipstick when her phone vibrated beside her on the vanity. Her blood froze when her phone showed an unknown number. She knew who it was before she brought it, open to her ear.

"Hello," her voice was strong.

"Having a fun Halloween, Harley?" The garbled voice she had to come recognize as the Riddler asked smugly.

"Well, I was until you called," she replied with no hidden sarcasm.

"Then I'll make this short and simple. I hope this brightens up your night. I have a little riddle for you."

"What have you done?"

"Ah-ah, first the riddle." She quietened. "Coiled like the snake that tempted, Eve is bound in a garden darker than Eden along with the devil himself with a painted smile. There are guards, my demons watching them, and if you don't find them within an hour they die. Dark Eden lies within this city, a lonely place where lines are obscure and those that slave may become the subjects of their own work. My little Engima is there; she's been dying to meet you, Harley, but if you want to see your friend alive—she was dressed like a scarecrow, right—you better hurry. The clock will begin to wind down after I hang up. Run little Harley Quinn...can the black queen outsmart my queen of ivory?"

The line went silent. Harleen screamed and jumped from her seat and began pacing her room. It took her little time to figure out the puzzle; and she knew it was because he had wanted her to decipher it. She grabbed her phone and dialed a number.

"Commissoner Gordon, I don't care how you do it, get Batman. Tell him to meet me at Arkham Asylum, the Riddler's holding Dr. Pamela Isley hostage."

She didn't even give him time to think, didn't tell him of the other hostage. She doubted he would have cared had she mentioned the Joker was apparently a victim too. She grabbed a pair of dark fingerless gloves from her bed, the last piece of her Halloween costume before rushing out of her bedroom.

Oops, she'd totally forgotten to have Jim warn the dark knight of her attire.

Elisa could understand the girl, Pam. She saw the worth of kidnapping and holding her, but the other prisoner she wasn't sold on.

She turned to regard, first the stoic and silent girl sitting against the back wall of the room. Her hands were bound and only one of her emerald eyes was visible from the concealment of the ripped, burlap mask that she wore. She had made sure the ties were snug.

So this was Pamela Isley, Dr. Quinzel's best friend; she certainly looked intimidating and other than her initial capture she had been silent said the men that had bagged her. She was taking it rather well, but her eye was stormy and it glared coldly into Elisa's own. The captor broke the stare first and turned instead to the other hostage.

He was smiling genuinely. This was the Joker and his scars made him appear even more dementedly giddy. She'd made sure he had been restrained in a straightjacket.

"You must think you're one smart cookie, huh, toots?"

She pretended not to hear his comment as her eyes strayed above him to the clock. She had forty-five minutes; the Riddler had called her, confirming the countdown in a one word command.

She sat crossed-legged on a table in the center of the room, so she could observe her company. She blew a strand that had fallen from her bound curls from her face. One would have thought after one attempt, Arkham would have beefed up security more than they had. It had been too easy to take over the place—hell it was the same plan as last time only with more people, and an actual representative of the Riddler overseeing the operation.

No one wanted to cross the boss's girl. She had an attitude to match his, they had come to learn. One of their men lie in a pool of his own bowels outside for coping a feel. She may seemed like a docile kitten for the man in charge, but Enigma was no trick.

"Enigma," a boy of his late teens appeared in the dim doorway.

She raised her head and nodded in recognition.

"Ron says the docs and nurses are all nice and snug now."

"Good. Make sure three are assigned to each room. They're in the three center rooms right?"

The boy nodded, "As ordered, ma'am."

She nodded.

"Hey, E-nig-ma," the Joker popped. "You think you're too good to talk to us hostages?"

"What?" She bit and craned her head to stare at the man. The boy in the door was apparently distressed and she saw the Joker's eyes glance towards him. He licked his lips, smiling still. "Oh, a little snappy are ya? I happen to like girls with moxie, but you, something's strange with you. Wha'cha doing?"

"Waiting for the guest of honor," she shrugged.

"You think she'll come?" The boy asked. Enigma nodded, "Harleen will show. We've got Pam."

"I knew it! You better not touch her you bitch!"

Enigma grinned and the Joker turned to stare at his companion—other prisoner—Pamela with muted interest.

"And she speaks," Enigma clapped once. The Joker turned back to her. "I agree with this woman. You'd be better off not touching her."

Enigma blinked and then laughed, "I would, would I? Now I see why the Riddler wanted you too. What if I do decide to touch her, hm? I think my boys would enjoy the fun. Is she pretty?"

"She's a helluva lot more to look at than you!" Pam snapped.

"I like you already," the Joker smiled.

Pam blinked at him. What could one honestly say to that and why did the Joker want to protect Harley as much as her? Wait, strike that answer, she knew. She shook her head.

"For the time being, I'll ignore that comment. Trevor," Enigma turned to the boy, "I want to get three other guys. You all will be joining me here to greet our guest when she comes."

"What are you planning to do once my little queen of spades appears?"

Enigma cocked an eyebrow at the man, as the boy left the door. Honestly she was just doing this to gain more trust from the Riddler; she saw Harley as a lovely counterforce and she wanted on that side. She smirked, though. "Well, unlike the Riddler, I dunno. I was told not to harm her too much. You see, I think the Riddler wants to talk to her alone. I'm just here to send a message and shake things up a little bit. Gotham's new criminal mastermind has decided to step forward."

"Who is the Riddler, if he coming forward it won't matter if you tell us."

"Oh, nice try, you little viper," Elisa lowered her head and stared at Pam, "but no."

"Got 'em," Trevor said and he and three other men entered the room.

"Alright, thirty-five more minutes...No more talking from either of you."

"Oh, scary, what ya gonna do?" The Joker quipped.

"I won't mind killing you, Joker, I'd be a hero if I did. I'm still not sure why I'm holding you hostage."

"How'd you get him, Enigma?" One of the other men asked her. She grinned and pushed herself off the table, revealing her to be wearing a doctor's coat and even an I.D. Badge. "Connections; I acted like a doctor, gave them very convincing paperwork, and thus he was brought restrained to me. The rest you all were doing yourselves."

"Boss didn't take any chances planning this did he?"

"Good evening all of Arkham!"

A feminine voice called over the intercom interrupting the moment. Pam's and the Joker's eyes flashed in recognition of the voice, but their watchers paused.

"I thought you said all the rooms were secured..." Enigma growled and turned a deadly glare to the four men.

"But we-"

"If you would please tune into your furnished televisions, there is a special message for Enigma and all the other croonies of the Riddler about to air."

Enigma turned to her two hostages. "It's her isn't it?" She grinned and turned her eyes with the rest of the room to the television, which turned on and blinked for a moment. "Impressive."

Then the inside of the security booth was shown. It seemed empty, but the chair that was facing away from the camera began rocking.

"Hey diddle, diddle how about a riddle? What's five-three, physically un-intimidating, and managed to wriggle through your defenses without breaking a sweat?"

The chair twisted around and within an instant there staring into the camera was an ivory face, inset with piercing icy eyes staring from what appeared two black diamonds ringing her eyes and attached over the bridge of her nose.

She waved from her position leaning over the control console, her eyes obviously giddy. "Now, someone should tell me if I'm wrong, but if I'm not mistaken, Enigma you have someone I want. And just because he happens to be there, I'll take the Joker as well. So, um, I made your little...timeline," she cleared her throat, "where's the antagonism?"

"Who is that?" Trevor whispered fearfully. Enigma was also wide-eyed. "That's Harleen Quinzel."

"You're not throwing a good party." She waggled a finger. "What a poor host you are. Well, I'm coming to find you. If you think you can stop me, c'mon, I'm rearing for some action. So I'll be seeing ya, but I just wanted to let you know that Harley Quinn is in the building. Ta ta now!"

The television fell into static as she turned off the camera she had been using with a smirk.

"That little bold bitch! Thing one and two!" Enigma bristled to two of the men. "Go and track her down!"

The television had gone black again.

"Why aren't you moving?! GO!" They rushed from the room. She pulled her gun from her belt. "Ivester, right?" She asked the remaining, unnamed man. He nodded.

"You got a knife?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Enigma smiled madly, "she's just too confident for her own good. You're gonna carve that smug little grin into her face. She wants to parade like the Joker—that's the first thing that came to mind at her appearance right—we'll help her case. I don't know how she managed to get in here."

"Don't worry, Jeeves and Hyatt will get her. The security room is just around the corner."

"Then why, dear little Trevor, did no one catch her already?"

Trevor shook his head, as the gun she held crawled up his chest. "I dunno, maybe she's really quiet."

"Oh, that's just a trip there."

"Enigma!" The two she had sent out came running back into the room. "She ain't in the security room anymore!"

"What do you mean? Did you even try to look in the adjoining halls and rooms ?!" Enigma screeched. The Joker chuckled.

"My Harley frustrating you? She does that all the time to me, only it's more pleasurable."

"Shut up! She was just in there! How can someone just disappear like that. I mean she's wearing face paint for God's sake! Geez, you'd think-"

"Enigma?" Trevor whispered.

"Not now, T. You'd think that someone in white greasepaint would be noticeable. How can you-"

"Enigma."

"What?!" She pivoted on her heel.

"I heard something up there." He pointed upwards. Her eyes fell to the air vent above him. Of course.

She raised her gun. "1...2...3..." The others followed suit. "SHOOT!"

The guns went off riddling the metallic piping with holes. Pam screamed.

The smell of gunpowder filled the room as did bullet casings. They'd shot until the guns clicked. They were reloading when a low cackle echoed around the room. It was filled with sick amusement.

"Ka-boom!"

The ceiling exploded in the next instant. Pam ducked her head, another scream ripping from her throat in panic. The five people not tied up fell to the floor as debris fell and smoke filled the room.

"What the hell?!" Enigma coughed and stared up as the haze cleared.

The one responsible for the explosion stood confidently in the dispersing smoke staring up at the hole she had created in the ceiling with pride. She was an embodiment of chaos, an ebony and crimson Eris.

"Did anyone request a Harley Quinn?" She questioned in a pregnant innocence. She tilted her head, her blonde pigtails hardly disturbed by the movement.

"Harleen Quinzel," Enigma whispered.

She bowed, "T'would be me, you have some people you wanted me to come on behalf of?" She turned her head and grinned at both the Joker and Pam. She winked before returning her attention to Elisa.

Enigma stood up and dusted herself off. Harleen took one then another step. She grinned, "You must be his Enigma, my, my aren't you a pretty little doll. Did he have fun breaking you? Did you enjoy every punch?"

Enigma's eyes widened. Harley clapped her hands. "You have a shiner, there, doll. And from your reaction, my assumption was right. So he beats you. Does he rape you too?"

"Shut up!"

"What, not enough fight to satisfy his hunger normally?" She snickered. "Hit a soft spot, huh?" she nimbly circled her, "I bet." She raised a hand towards Elisa's face.

Enigma slapped it away.

"Huh, you seem pretty feisty to me. Maybe," she raised a finger, not at all perturbed by being smacked away, "you like women!" She nodded. "I could swing that too, puddin', hmmm?" She laughed. "What's wrong with your croonies?" She sobered and stared at the four men tensed behind Enigma. "Hey, you guys got any balls or did the Riddler neuter ya?"

"Why don't ya shut your little trap." Hyatt barked.

"Why," Harleen lowered her head, "don't ya make me? Or ya gonna cower behind this girl the whole time?"

"Boss," and with Enigma's nod he stepped in front of the woman.

"Oh, the man wants to play. C'mon then, show Harley what ya got." She tensed and watched him. "I ain't gonna hurt ya much, girly, just rough ya up a little."

"Oh, scary, scary." She quipped; he charged. She charged right back surprising him, but he didn't falter. At the last moment she bent over and using her sped as leverage, pushed off the floor with her hands and into the air.

"Oops, should've warned ya I was a gymnast, huh?" She giggled as she landed, hands on his shoulders. She pushed off instantly and kicked him in the back, sending him stumbling as she landed in a crouch on the floor.

She straightened and turned around just in time to dodge another charge. "Ya missed." She tripped him. "Oh, am I being mean? Awww...I'll give you another chance you big oaf. C'mon."

She danced to a wall and stood there. "Now we're fair. C'mon, c'mon," she waved her hand, "I want ya to do it, I want ya do it, come get me!" She sang and Hyatt's anger was even more set off. "I'll break you real good for that, you little whore." He ran at her again.

She didn't move until he was far too close to stop. She glanced upward and with a leap grabbed a pipe hanging from the ceiling, propelling herself upward and out of the way as Hyatt sped full speed into the wall. He fell backward and Harleen hung upside from the pipe, her legs curled around it.

She pouted. "I broke him." Then she grinned, staring at the other guys, "Anyone else, hm? HM?" She dropped gracefully to the floor. She raised her arms and then shrugged. "I'll take that as a no...Alright then, you just stay there then, let me untie Pam here, and no other chaos will occur, 'kay?" She nodded to herself. "Good!"

She skipped over to Pam, her face fell and it was no longer a mask of dementia. She looked apologetic now that her back was turned to the people. She strongly took steps and she was aware of the footsteps behind her. Let a guy follow her, she would-

"Harley!"

She grabbed the chair she was passing and without hesitation turned and swung. She hit the man squarely in the head with a sickening crack. He screamed, dropped the piece of debris he had been planning to hit her with, and fell to the ground, clutching his head.

"Tsk, tsk...see what happens when you're bad? You might need a doctor to look at that... You might have a concussion. Oh, that's right! I'm a doctor." She grinned dementedly. "You wouldn't have known it would ya?" She walked over to him, "Hang on a sec, Red." She towered over his curled body on the ground. "You're not gonna die, but, uh," She kicked him hard and laughed, "that'll be bruised in the morning."

She licked her lips and glared up at the three. "Enigma, you're just standing there while I wipe the floor with your henchmen."

She crossed her arms. "I have no reason to save them. If they can't handle you it's their own fault." She walked towards the other woman. "I can't believe a little thing like you can take them on." She sized her up.

"I can't believe you're just taking the Riddler's punches." She grinned, "Is he any good in bed?"

Enigma brought a hand to her mouth, "Oh, what a question? You want to find out? Is the Joker not good enough for you?"

Harley laughed in amusement, bright joy. "Do you really want to know?" She asked her voice growing dark, "How much detail?" Enigma's face snarled. She pursed her lips and punched Harley in the stomach, instantaneously pushing her backward. Harley just laughed.

"No, Harley! It's a trap!" Pam called. If the Joker really cared why wasn't he saying anything? She glanced at him; he was entranced by the battle unfolding before him. She growled, but Harley didn't seem to mind, not even as she was grabbed from behind by Ivester.

She was pulled back atop the table and turned around until she was facing the man. In his hand glinted a knife. "Let's do a number on that smart mouth of yours."

Harley was now facing her long time fear, but with the weapon finally before her she wasn't afraid. The Joker lived through it. She was still smiling. "Alright, big boy, carve me a nice bloody grin." She opened her mouth with a loud side-effect.

He gaped at her. She grinned even wider. "I'm ready for my surgery. You chickening out?" She tilted her head and then brought her legs up and curled them beneath her and pushed him off her and he dropped the knife in surprise. She scrambled up and off the table grabbing the blade quickly before he could.

"You shouldn't wield these unless you're serious. These things are dangerous," her voice was black with anger now. She brought the blade up and Ivester, who had once been so confident, now flinched away as she traced his neck with the cold steel. He opened his eyes when he felt it pulled away.

She brought up the blade and he closed his eyes at the plunge only to open them in a hoarse horrendous scream as the knife was driven through his hand and into the wall behind him. She grinned and pulled a gun from her pocket. "Told ya they were dangerous. So, girlie..." She turned to Enigma pulling the knife out of the man's hand with her free one. He sank to the ground clutching it and glaring at her but mindful of the firearms she now held.

"The chips aren't fallin' in your favor, he," she jerked her head where Trevor was huddled against the wall whimpering, tears filling his eyes, "ain't gonna do anything," she turned her whole body and shot the boy twice. Once in each leg, both followed by a bloodcurdling howl.

"I'm gonna give you a choice," Harley stated tiredly. Enigma began to back up then, her eyes wide and fearful. This Harley wasn't the one who had challenged the Riddler those months ago. This was a new and possibly deadly opponent. She gulped.

The petite girl managed somehow to loom despite her size as she stepped forward, throwing the bloodied knife to stick cleanly, high in a far wall. Her shoulders were hunched, her eyes dark. She was serious, and gravely demented. Elisa studied her in musted fascination; what had Edward done to this girl, she was close to breaking.

She backed Elisa into the back wall by the Joker and her raised the gun to her heart. "You can either choose to die, or I'll let you live, but ya see...this living bit...it has a stipulation." Harleen nodded, "You're gonna tell the Riddler, you're gonna tell...Edward, that I know his little secret...because it is Edward isn't it, Elisa?"

Elisa couldn't shake off the clear shock that colored her now pale face, she couldn't muffle the gasp. "How?"

"You worked at Nygma Inc. with him...The last place you were seen was at his house...Tell him the last of his pawns are about to fall. Taylor Henderson woke up this morning, and all I need is her testimony to lock him away. I wasn't gonna go until tomorrow, but ah, you made your move. So I'm gonna make mine." She removed the gun from its target and aimed at the ground level window. The glass shattered with the bullet and Harley grabbed Elisa roughly by the hair.

"Tell him, to come and get me. I've not learned my lesson yet, and I'm still not afraid of him in the least." She thrust her out the window and clapped her hands.

Harley's face then fell and she leaned against the wall. She pulled a small device from her pocket and brought it up to her mouth pressing down. "Batman, I've found them, Enigma got away."

"Batman?!" Pam gasped. Harley turned to her. "I may be rash, but I'm far from stupid." She grinned. "He'll take care of you both. I'm sorry, Pam. I hope I didn't freak you out with my little show."

"Harley, what's going on? That was-"

"An act," she promised. The depraved look had vanished. "When this is all over, I'll get some therapy...I know this is affecting me, but have a disfigured girl to question."

She walked from the room just as a dark figure entered. Pam stared at the figure known as Batman glancing in astonishment around the room, but the Joker was strangely silent, his eyes trailing after Harleen's retreating figure.

Elisa held her cheek as the Edward drove rashly through the streets towards Gotham Central Hospital. From beneath her fingers slowly oozed blood.

"You just sat there and did nothing! How could you just stand there and watch as those men fell. That little bitch knows who I am because of you. Damn it, you little—I can't believe you couldn't control your emotions!"

"I wasn't expecting her to be so fucked up." She whispered.

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, Edward." She said.

"You damn well better be! Now I have to improvise this! Your job wasn't hard.! All you had to do was shake her up!"

He ran a stop sign. "You're lucky you only got that cut on your cheek. If you're docile and follow exactly what I tell you tonight, that's all I'll give you. I don't like punishing you, my little Enigma, but you have to learn."

Elisa bit her lip and stared into the night. Harley, if she could live through what the Riddler had planned she would be a perfect force to join with. She glared at the back of the Riddler's head. It took all her strength not to attack him. How dare he blame for her all of his mistakes. It wasn't her fault that Harley knew; and he would have cowered too if he had seen the jester she had. The rest of the way to their hiding place—a parking lot across from the hospital—was silent on her part. Elisa kept quiet brooding and complaining within her head as Edward continued to spout useless, heated words about her failures and her short-comings. The goons who were in the car were silent; they knew better than to speak.

When Elisa next saw Harleen, she was devoid of the make-up, but not the costume. She walked from the hospital.

The fear and surprise that flashed through her face when Edward pulled up the sleek, black van alongside her as she hurried towards the side of the building, caused Elisa discomfort. The woman should have kept her mouth shut. Could she really handle the Riddler?

Edward rolled down the window; Harleen didn't have a second to act as she was sprayed with sleeping gas. She fell to the pavement and was soon gathered into the van which sped off, unseen. Elisa stared at her.

There were no witnesses, no blood this time. Poor Harleen Quinzel.

Hell was awaiting her and Lucifer sat happily in the driver's seat, just mulling over all the horrible, and painful torture he could put her through.