Dim lights rattled in the cavernous hall of the Asylum. The clicking of the new doctors heals echoed profoundly.Jeez, No wonder no one leaves this place. She straightenedthe loose fringe of hair at the front of her face. Stopping to lookinto
theobservation window, she examed the outfit she wore, button down ruffled blouse, mid-calf pencil skirt, professional, not flirty, she noted. The long blond locks that normally were worn down, now sat neatly in a sever bun. Clearing her throat
she openedhercase file.

A small photo of a man stared back at her. Tinted green locks sat casually over his left brow.He coulda been a real lady killer.Flipping the photo over the following pages read:

Identity: Unknown

Alias: "The Joker"

Height: 6 foot 2 inches

Weight: 130 lbs

Eye Colour: Hazel

Race: White

Arrest Date: 11/15/2000

12/13/2014:

Session 24:Patient has become antisocial, and uncorropertive. Every question I ask is answered with laughter. I fear there isn't enough cognitive therapy to help settle this man's mind.

12/20/2014:

Session 25: Patient was quiet during today's session. His deminor sober, when he did speak he only whispered: "your time is up Doc; time to pack up and move on" I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Clearing her throat she opened the door to face her patient. The man was handcuffed to the chair."Huh?" The Joker looked her over head to toe. "Oh, you must be the new Doc." The Joker let out a laugh.

"Uh-" Pausing she looked him over, his arms were restrained for her safety no doubt. His lips curving into a grin that settled above a sharply point chin.Oh ya, he coulda been a lady killa."Yes. My name is Doctor Harleen Quinzel" Harleen
satacross from him. Opening her file she looked it over once more.

"Harleen Quinzel, you say? Mind if I call you Harley Quinn, you can be my new pal."

"Yea, I do." She said shortly. "I didn't go to school fah nothin."

His thin lips curved into smile, "Harley Quinn" he chanted his fingers tapping the sides of his chair.

"I don't seem to have a name in your file, what is your birth name?"

"Oh, I don't know, you know Harley, you can call me Joker."

"Doctor Quinzel-" she corrected again

"Doctor-" he mocked "If we can't be pals then you can call me Mister The Joker."

She let out a small laugh. "Who were you before you were 'Mister The Joker'. Where did you grow up?"

"Oh, Doc, I've always been here, in Gotham. But I was no one. You could say I was a Joke!" Cackling filled the room, as he threw his head back.

He's fascinating. Harleen watched him over her pen. "Tell me, why are you here?"

His frost greeneyes locked on her, like a cat stalking its prey. " Didn't you hear? I'm crazy. A real twisted basturd. No one warned you about me Doc?"

"Should I have been warned?" Doctor Quinzel made several notes in the open file, of course she knew who he was. A criminal, a sick man who needed help. His victims were the run of the mill thugs usually. She'd heard him referred to as 'the king of Gotham'his
crimes ran the ballot she develed deeper intohis file. Arson, murder, theift, assault, not the type of man her father would approve of if he found out she was associating with, even if it was just as a patient. "Do you like to kill?" She askedpoint
blank.

"Do I like to kill?" He repeated, the Joker's head tilted slightly. "Kill what? Dreams? Fantasies?"

"People." Harleen leaned across the table, studying his expression. "Do you like to kill people Mister The Joker?"

Furrowing his brow he leaned as close as his restraints allowed. "Do I like to kill people... let me think...


People die, Doctor. All the time, in fact." His voice trailed off almost to a whisper. "What difference does it make if I help them to the grave? They weren't very nice people, the ones I helped, were they?"

Harleen cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable at the mere inches between them. Sitting straight again to regain her composure, she glanced down at the paper breaking eye contact with the patient. "Who have you 'helped' men? Women? Children?" She
/prompted jotting down a few more notes.

"You see in my line of work you don't come across many women, and certainly not children. Harley-"

"Doctor." She corrected again.

"Doctor,what brought you to my little corner of hell?" Leaning back he studied her from down his nose.

"I want to help. I want to cure you." She stated simply.

"Cure me? I'm not sick little girl. Im just twisted."

Standing Harleen scooped up the file andturned on her heel and walked to the door. Her hand touched the door. "I'll see you next week. Mister The Joker" She called over her shoulder.