Chapter One

Dr. Harleen Quinzel resisted the urge to reach for her gun as she passed the grabbing hands of Arkham's most dangerous villains. She had to remind herself that the two guards leading her were more than able to protect her if something happened.

One of them stopped—Mr. Mustache, she nicknamed him—and motioned for her to enter a sterile white room. Two metal chairs and a table sat in the middle, all three bolted to the ground for safety reasons. The other guard—Mr. Frown—entered ahead of her and made sure she was seated comfortable before nodding to his fellow guard.

"Jeff will let the captain know that he can bring your patient here," he said. "As you know from previous visits, there will be three guards posted outside just in case he moves to harm you. We will be monitoring the conversation through the cameras. If you need to take a break or stop for the day, just look at the camera and nod."

"Understood." Dr. Quinzel nodded briskly, already prepared to meet with the Clown Prince of Chaos. "You may leave, thank you." After Mr. Frown left, she tried to compose herself a little better. She pulled her notebook and pen from one of her lab coat pockets and flipped through the notebook until she reached an unused page.

She didn't have to wait long before two guards led in the restrained Prince. His face was clean of all makeup, leaving his scars fully visible. When he noticed the psychiatrist sitting, he grinned at her and laughed, stretching the ridges on his cheeks. "Evening, Doctor."

On of the guards—Mr. Leader—forced the Clown Prince to sit down and glanced at Dr. Quinzel. "We'll be outside if you need anything, Doctor." He glared at the inmate. "Behave yourself," he commanded sternly. The Prince of Clown laughed as Mr. Leader left the room.

Click. Click. Click. Dr. Quinzel clicked her pen as she waited for her patient to calm himself down. Click. Click. Click. Finally, his laughter stopped and he tilted his head downward, glowering up at his psychiatrist. "Why so serious?"

"Mr. J," Dr. Quinzel began, ignoring his question and staring at her notes. He had insisted on her calling him Mr. J in past appointments and she had complied ever since, hoping to stay on his good side. "How have you been?"

Though the question sounded simple, both parties knew there were layers, but the most prominent translation was: "Are you compliant enough to answer my questions?" In answer, the Clown Prince threw back his head and laughed. Click. Click. Click.

He watched her carefully as she wrote something down in her notebook. "Wanna know how I got these scars?"

With his response, Dr. Quinzel knew he wasn't going to answer any of her questions, so she decided to humor him. "How did you get your scars, Mr. J?" He had told her multiple stories in their weeks of meeting and she was interested to see which one he decided to tell her this time—or maybe he had a new one. She held her notebook and pen at the ready.

"My father was a drinker and… a fiend," he began. Dr. Quinzel listened to him spin his tale—it was one he had told before and she knew how it ended. When he decided to finish the story, she leaned across the table, staring at him over her glasses.

"Mr. J, are you sure that's what happened?"

The Clown Prince smirked at her and leaned back in his chair, comfortable. "I'm a man of my word."

Dr. Quinzel copied him, leaning against the back of her metal chair. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and slid her notebook off the table. "I think that's all for today, Mr. J." She stuffed her pen and notebook back into her pocket and stood up. The Clown watched her stand.

The door opened and Mr. Frown and Mr. Leader came into the room. They yanked the Prince to his feet and shoved him out of the room. He cackled as Mr. Mustache joined them and roughly pushed him to the left and down the hall. Dr. Quinzel watched them leave, frustrated with the lack of improvement she had made today—and in the several weeks before. If their progress continued this slowly, she would be analyzing the Clown Prince of Chaos for the rest of her life.

—H—

Harleen woke with a start and stared at the clock on her nightstand. It was 5:50 in the morning—her alarm would be going off soon. With a groan, she shoved her blankets off and got out of bed, grabbing her phone and cancelling her alarm as she headed to the bathroom.

She had another appointment with the Agent of Chaos and she didn't feel prepared. It had already been a week since her last meeting—they only had them once a week to keep her mental strength at top-level—and she was still trying to figure out where she had gone wrong.

She stepped onto the cold tile of the bathroom and turned on the shower, watching the warm water fog over her reflection in the mirror as she slipped off her pajamas. The minute the warm water touched her skin, she let herself relax—she was going to be fine; this wasn't the end of the world.

After a hurried shower, she twisted her hair into a strict bun ad changed into her normal work attire—a clean white button-down, a black pencil skirt, and a red necktie—and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Since it was only 6:30, Harleen started her coffee and pulled a clean bowl out of the cabinets, planning on eating a quick breakfast before work.

Before she could pull a box of cereal from her cupboard, her phone rang.

"Harleen Quinzel," she answered, grabbing her bowl and putting it back.

"What time do you get off work today?" Her boyfriend, Guy Kopski, asked. He sounded wide awake and Harleen almost growled—no one had the right to sound that happy before 7:00.

"Probably 4:00; why?" She picked up her coffee mug and blew on the liquid, hoping to cool it faster.

"I wanted to meet up tonight," he answered. "I have some big news that I wanted to share with you."

"Does this have anything to do with your current experiment?"

Guy's silence answered her question. "How'd you know?"

"You always get so excited about it," Harleen responded. "I'm free tonight. Where do you want to meet?"

"I was thinking that one fancy restaurant across from Gotham State Hospital—What's it called?"

"Um, I think it's called Diamond's." Harleen finished her coffee and checked her watch. She needed to hurry if she wanted to be early. She hurried into her bathroom, putting her phone on speaker as she started on her makeup while Guy continued talking.

"I know it's super fancy, but I figured special news calls for a special dinner," Guy said. "If you want to meet somewhere else, we totally can."

"No, no. Diamond's sounds great, babe."

"Are you sure? I know you can feel self-conscious when we're in a fancy setting like that." Guy cleared his throat. "Not that that's a bad thing, Quinz. I'm just saying that sometimes extravagant isn't your scene."

"I know what you're trying to say." Harleen's hand hovered over the red lipstick. Was it too much? After a few more seconds, she grabbed it and started applying it to her lips—the boldness made her feel more confident.

"We'll meet at Diamonds say… 5:00?"

"It'll probably take me some time to get ready, so around 5:30 would be better."

"5:30 it is, then."

"I'll see you tonight."

"See you tonight. Bye."

"Buh-bye." Harleen finished the call and looked at her watch. She was going to be late.