Conversations of persuasion were boring. At least with people like Barbara Kean. Ooh she was bad. But too stuck up for a guy like him. But his face betrayed none of these thoughts as he bounded up to Richard Sionis with the energy of a 6 year old in a candy store.

The bespectacled man jumped in fright when the red haired boy slapped his hands on his shoulders. He turned his head to see the demon looming over him with that infernal smile, and then saw him leap into the chair with a flourish.

"The Lord looked at his work and it was good." He hissed.

Richard rolled his eyes.

"What do you want Jerome?" He said in, at least Jerome's opinion, a nasal tone.

The gangly teen leaned over the table, his once joyful expression twisted into a scowl.

"I want you to give me what you promised."

Richard looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow, "Is it done?"

Jerome spread out his arms, the smirk returning to it's place like it never left.

"Of course! She's all yours! And all she wants in return is..." He gave a wink, like they were schoolgirls talking about their crushes. "A phoooone caall."

He bounced his eyebrows devilishly, "Women huh? So easy to get."

Richard shook his head, " Not the girl you want. She's tougher than a box of nails."

Jerome laughed, "I always did like a challenge." The old man's demeanor changed, and his voice lowered to a hushed whisper, as if any other of the loons in here could comprehend what they were talking about. They were probably having a good ol' chat with all the voices in their heads. "Do you understand what I'm putting at risk here? This... thing you want to see is dangerous, probably the most dangerous person in here. The strings I've had to pull to let you see her while she's in solitary..." Richard started to prattle on about something that Jerome didn't care about, like the billionaire's "fragile reputation".

He'd wanted this since he first came to Gotham with Haly's circus as a child. The other kids talked about her in hushed whispers and parents dismissed it as a nonsensical fairy tale. The stories said that a girl had murdered her very own twin sister. The GCPD claimed that although a girl had been stabbed they had yet to find the killer. That didn't stop the gossip obsessed neighbors speculating though, and who better to blame than the only witness to the attack?

The next time October rolled around and circus set up camp in Gotham, they were saying that the same girl's grandmother had fallen off a roof, and they thought she was pushed. But according to the police, there was no traces of DNA on the body and the girl claimed she hadn't been on the roof at that time.

Jerome had been fascinated. Even though he knew that most of the tales were made up by bored housewives, he also knew that two deaths like that had to have some sought of foul play. He would hide behind hay bales, eavesdropping on conversations, clinging on to every word. He wanted to meet this girl. Was she also 8 years old? Would she be pretty? He imagined she would be. She'd be the very picture of innocence.

For the next few year he heard nothing new, but he never forgot about her. After all, she hadn't been the only one up to a little mischief.

It was when he turned 14 when he heard about her again. He had found a newspaper left on the table in his mother's trailer when he saw the elusive girl's name in bold on the front.

It did not have a photo or description but at the moment Jerome was too shocked to care.

...The GCPD have apprehended the 13 year old sociopath and serial killer that has plagued Gotham for 7 years now. Her parents, boyfriend and 3 photographers outside were brutally murdered. They found her covered in the victims blood at the crime scene laughing manically. Police also found evidence of mutilated animals buried all around the yard, some having been there for several years. She has also been found guilty of the murder of her twin sister and grandmother, and the attempted murder of her classmate, Penelope Martinez. She has a life sentence at Arkham Asylum starting today.

Allegedly her parents had been bribing the Commissioner Jacobs to keep him from pressing charges, for which he is now handing over the title to Commissioner Gillian Loeb, the ceremony will be held today at...

By now the newspaper was lying by Jerome's sneakers while he gazed into space, trying to process this information. After a few moments he headed into his room. He knelt on the creaky floorboards, ignoring the splinters piercing his skin. He reached under the bed and pulled out a notebook.

It was bound by leather and the spine and cover were bare except for the words Property Of Jerome Valeska crudely engraved in the black material. The yellowed pages were filled with childish scrawl, newspaper clippings and drawings of a blonde girl with blue eyes which had slowly devolved over the years as he grew older.

He gently caressed the withering pages that documented his obsession of the girl with the strange name. He had his own personal nickname for her, one he that danced around his head and brought a smile to his face.

His fingers grasped between the sheets, scrabbling for a certain object. When he found it he put the pencil to paper and began to write.

Today was the day they found out that she was behind the killings. They day she was sent to Arkham. She murdered her parents (finally), her boyfriend (jumps around in glee), and 3 paparazzi (never liked them anyway).

This was no slip up though. She seems to be the sought of person who thinks things through carefully. But then again some of her actions (Like the Nanna Skydive Incident) seem to be purely impulsive. But no, this... revelation of her true nature seems perfectly calculated. It's as if the animals were the rehearsal, the first few killings the opening acts and now the main star is set to preform.

I wonder if she knows that someone loves her...

Jerome stopped, surprised at he words he'd just written. He glanced at he pencil accusingly as if it had somehow knew the answer to what had possessed him to say such a thing. Then he threw his head up to the ceiling, sighing. He knew it wasn't the pencil's fault. But something such as him didn't feel emotions such as love. There had to be some other word to describe what he was experiencing...

Obsession. Yes he could see that, it was understandable. She was the most interesting figure to ever appear in his life, considering the bunch of mundane fools he was surrounded with, and the drunken idiot he had for a mother. And anyway, he hadn't even met the girl.

But in the present Jerome snapped to attention. That was about to change. Richard noticed the boy's change in expression and finally ceased his chatter.

Jerome held out his hand.

"Keys."

When Richard refused to comply, his voice dropped to a menacing growl you wouldn't think a boy his age could reach.

"Now."

Next thing he knew he was feeling cool metal touching his skin which he gripped with a vengeance.

Richard watched as the ginger waltzed up and away toward the gate. The man bit his lip but he couldn't stop himself from blurting out his question.

"Why her Jerome? You could have anyone in here and you pick her. Why? What makes her so special?"

Jerome paused for a moment, but then span around with a wink.

"Oh Richie I'm sorry. I know you're jealous but you're not really my type."

And with that he left the rec room, leaving behind a furious billionaire.

Jerome skipped through the halls, whistling loudly. But his footsteps became more hushed as he approached the Solitary door, with a reverence usually reserved for a church.

Several things to say darted through his brain before he dismissed them all as stupid. He felt more nervous than a nerd on a date with the cheerleader he's been crushing on his whole life. He mentally kicked himself. That's not why you're here. You're here because she could be... useful.

With a tad more resolve now, he twisted the doorknob and crossed the threshold.

He was greeted by darkness. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the low light he saw that the room was covered in white padding. There was nothing else except a shadow huddled into a corner of the room.

His eyes made out the shape of a girl hugging her knees to her chest, and her face was buried into her skinny arms. He could make out her golden halo of hair that framed her form and her noticed the smallest of movements.

She moved head slowly, so agonizingly slowly.

She raised her eyes to meet his, her eyes of the bluest blue, her lips curled into a smirk.

Jerome found himself breathing a sharp intake of air. She was just as he imagined her.

That's her.

My little Harley Quinn.

Authors Note: Well helloooo everyone! I am new here and if you have managed to slog through my awful writing to here than I apologise for the length of this chapter. I can't promise the next will be shorter, I have no idea what Harley and Mistah J want to talk about because honestly, it's up to them. Please write a review so I can add something to my reading list. Thank you for reading!