In another part of Gotham City, far away from Arkham Asylum, there lived a girl called Harleen Quinzel, but everyone called her Harley. She was a very pretty girl, with long golden hair and wide blue eyes, and she lived with her father in one of the poorer areas of the city. Harley was thought of as odd by everyone who met her, because she was a little shy and awkward and different from normal people, and she read everything she could get her hands on at the local library. But she didn't have any real friends except for her books.
One day she was heading home from the library, nose buried in a book, as usual, and not particularly looking where she was going, and she suddenly ran into someone climbing into a limousine.
"Oh…sorry," she said, smiling apologetically.
The man she had run into stared at her, and immediately put on a charming smile. "Oh no, my fault," he said. "Please excuse me, Miss…"
"Harleen Quinzel," said Harley. "But call me Harley, everyone does."
"My dear Harley, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said, bowing and kissing her hand. "I'm Bruce Wayne."
"Nice to meet you," said Harley. "And sorry about running into you again," she said, returning her attention to her book and heading off.
Bruce grabbed her arm. "Bruce Wayne," he repeated. "Of Wayne Enterprises. Billionaire philanthropist."
"Oh…that's nice," said Harley. "And I guess it explains why you got a limo."
"Can I give you a lift, Harley?" he asked, gesturing to it.
"Oh…no, thanks," said Harley. "My Dad told me never to get into cars with strange men."
"But I'm not a strange man," said Bruce. "We've just been introduced. And I'm kinda a celebrity, y'know."
"My Dad never told me to make any exceptions for celebrities," said Harley, with a nervous smile. "So no thanks, Mr. Wayne. I gotta get back anyway – he'll be worried."
"All the more reason why I should give you a lift," said Bruce. "You can get home to him faster."
"Thanks, but no thanks, really, Mr. Wayne," said Harley. "It isn't that far – I can walk…"
"I insist," said Bruce, grabbing her book suddenly. "It's not safe for a young lady to walk the streets of Gotham alone. Especially not one as beautiful as yourself, Harley, if you'll permit me to compliment you."
"Uh…thanks – can I have my book back please, Mr. Wayne?" asked Harley, reaching for it.
"It's Bruce, please," he said, pulling it out of her reach. "And you can have your book back after I give you a lift. Now that's fair, isn't it?"
It wasn't fair, thought Harley in annoyance – he was blackmailing her into taking a lift from him by holding her book hostage. But she wasn't about to let him keep it – it was her favorite, after all. So she sighed and climbed into the car, with Bruce following her.
"Harley, allow me to introduce my ward, Dick Grayson," he said, nodding at the other young man in the limousine.
"Hi," said Harley, waving nervously at him.
"Hi," replied Dick, smiling at her. "Can I offer you a glass of champagne?"
"Oh…no, thanks," she said. "I don't really drink. Especially not in cars with strange men."
"Where is it you live, Harley?" asked Bruce. "I'll just give Alfred the address."
Harley told him, and he frowned. "That's a rather run-down area of Gotham. It's hard to think of a lady as attractive as yourself having to reside there, Harley."
"Well, a world where pretty people got to live in pretty places, and ugly people got to live in ugly places would still be a crap world," said Harley. "People don't deserve anything just because they happen to be born attractive. I'm not sure what sorta messed up mind you have to have to think that. Beauty is only skin-deep, y'know, and people shouldn't be judged on superficial things like that. They should be judged on what's in their heart."
"Is that the sort of thinking you get from reading these books?" laughed Bruce, flipping the pages. "How can you even read this? There's no pictures!"
"Yeah, the only book you'll catch me reading is a comic book," agreed Dick.
"Well, some people use their imaginations," said Harley.
"Oh, I've got a good one of those, Harley, don't you worry," said Bruce, smiling at her. "I wonder if you can guess what I'm imagining right now," he murmured, sliding his hand onto her leg.
"I wouldn't like to speculate, Mr. Wayne," snapped Harley, shoving his hand away. "Please just keep your hands to yourself."
Bruce looked at her in a mixture of astonishment and fascination. "You're really not interested in me?" he asked. "Seriously?"
"As difficult as it must be for you to understand, Mr. Wayne, some women aren't interested in men just because they happen to be handsome or rich," snapped Harley. "I am one of those women. Any man I'd be interested in would have to have a brain, for starters, and would not blackmail a woman he just randomly met into riding in his car and having to endure his awkward and unwanted advances!"
She grabbed her book back from him just as the limousine pulled up in front of her apartment block. "Thank you for the lift – goodbye!" she snapped, opening the door and climbing out before the chauffeur could help her out.
She stormed up the steps to the apartment. "Harley!" called Bruce. She turned back around to glare at him. "It was very, very nice to meet you," he murmured, smiling at her. "If you change your mind or ever feel a little lonely, I stuck my card in your book. Give me a call sometime when you wanna replace the imaginary people in your book with a real warm body."
"Sorry you struck out, Bruce," said Dick, as the car drove off.
"Oh, I didn't," said Bruce, reaching for his glass of champagne and smiling. "She might play hard to get, but there's not a woman alive who's been able to resist me. If I keep at it, she'll relent eventually. I know where she lives now, after all."
"If I were you, I'd cut your losses and find someone else," said Dick. "There are plenty of women out there who want you."
"Yes, but Harley doesn't, and that's why I want her," retorted Bruce. "I enjoy the challenge. Plus she's the hottest woman I've ever seen, and that's saying something. I always get what I want. And I want Harley. And I will have her, Dick," he murmured, sipping his champagne. "Make no mistake about that."